


Stars Brush the Earth

by Stormkpr



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Love, M/M, Marper - Freeform, Missing Scene, bunker boyfriends, mackson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2020-09-24 07:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20355040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormkpr/pseuds/Stormkpr
Summary: A series of glimpses at Jackson and Miller’s life together a couple.Each chapter can stand alone, and you can read them in any order. Canon-compliant, not an AU.The latest chapters....Chapter 17 - I've been wanting to write more about Mackson's first days as a couple, so here's a trip back to Season 4.Chapter 18 - Backstory on the necklace we see Miller wearing in 7x14. Inspired by the Mackson scene with lots of candles.





	1. Honesty

**Author's Note:**

> “In a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.” –Madeline Miller in her novel “Circe”

**Chapter One: Honesty**

**Setting: **Inside the bunker, thirty days after Praimfaya

***

Jackson decided to take another look at the data. He didn’t like what his initial calculations were telling him, so he decided to start again from the beginning. He took a deep breath and willed his heart rate to slow a bit. He re-read all the material on sick bay’s ancient computer, he re-read every relevant section of the books that he and Abby had brought, and he again added up numbers and projections on paper. Jackson tried to chase away the feeling of anxiety in his stomach as he attempted to estimate again how long he himself had been knocked out, back when it happened. He now was an expert on the incapacitating agent, commonly referred to as stun gas. 

His mouth dry, Jackson debated whether or not to ask Abby for her opinion again, and whether or not to ask Jaha and Kane for theirs. Jaha and Kane were the ones who did it, and Kane was a military man. He must have some idea how long the gas would keep a grown man knocked out. But he didn’t want them to know what he was searching for. And as for Abby, well, Jackson could replay most of their conversation from memory. She had treated people impacted by gas before.

He put the pen down and rested his head on a hand, dreading the difficult conversation coming up. When he pulled his hand away, his fingers were slightly damp with sweat.

***

A few hours later, Jackson and Miller sat inside sick bay’s private medical supply room. Jackson and Abby alone had access to it. The room was just big enough to fit a mattress on the floor, so Jackson and Abby had worked out an arrangement. Each was allowed three nights in a row to use the room, and then they would switch off. Jackson knew that things between Abby and Kane weren’t good now, but regardless he had a private space to share with Miller on their designated nights. 

“How was your day?” Jackson asked as he placed their sheets over the mattress, and changed the pillowcases.

“The usual,” Miller said, pulling off his boots. “People are antsy and restless. Fighting over stupid things. Half my day is breaking up fights.” He reached to turn off the light in the room, leaving just the small nightlights near the floor on.

“And half my day is treating people injured in those fights over stupid things,” Jackson added with a sad smile. He followed Miller’s lead and began to disrobe down to his shorts and a T-shirt.

“I wish we had room for a chair in here,” Miller said, shaking his head. “I know, I know. We should just be grateful that we have privacy.”

He lowered himself down to the mattress, resting his back against the wall. Jackson soon sat next to him.

“It’s really nice getting to spend some time talking before bed,” Miller said, reaching an arm around Jackson.

Jackson loved the warmth of Miller’s strong arm. He closed his eyes. “Having time to decompress is good,” he murmured. It was an understatement, he knew. He had had a couple friends on the Ark (neither of them had made it down to the ground), and a couple acquaintances in Arkadia (none had made the cut for the bunker). But the ability to have a quiet moment with the man he loved, to have someone give the gift of listening, was wondrous. It made life in the bunker tolerable, even joyous at times.

“People are still in shock over everything,” Jackson continued. He wanted to rest his head on Miller’s shoulder, but the position they were sitting in didn’t allow it. He continued to just enjoy the feeling of Miller’s arm around him. “Praimfaya. The end of their old life, of almost everything they’d known. Trying to adapt to life here.”

“At least we have an advantage over the grounders. We lived on the Ark. But I keep saying, at least the Ark had windows!”

Jackson shook his head. It was almost cruel. He had spent 23 years living in the Ark, and then he got to enjoy fresh air and sunlight for a few months --before landing in the bunker. But he didn’t voice those words now, and there was no point in bemoaning fate when everyone else suffered too. He and Miler had already expressed those thoughts to each other. And besides, now he had Miller who was worth more than lakes and gentle breezes.

The men were quiet for a few moments. Jackson then felt a subtle shift in Miller’s posture. Miller turned his head towards his partner. “I know you spend 24/7 working, but I was wondering…did you have a chance to look into what I asked about?” Miller asked quietly. 

Jackson looked straight ahead and closed his eyes for a moment. Never before had he wanted so badly to lie. Hadn’t his grandmother said that a “white lie” could be a good thing sometimes? But his mother had disagreed with that assessment and told Eric to always tell the truth.

“I did,” Jackson began softly. He touched a hand to Miller’s knee. “I – I think there is at least a fifty-percent chance that he woke up before Praimfaya. I’m sorry.” He paused, and said again, his voice nearly cracking, “I’m so sorry.”

For a second, Jackson had considered going over all the data, explaining exactly how he came to that conclusion. But instead he let his words remain. Miller needed time to absorb their impact.

“There were angry grounders all around the bunker,” Miller finally said. “My dad might have gotten hacked to pieces by them.”

“It’s possible.” Both men were whispering despite the fact that they were alone. Jackson felt tears form in his eyes. “But maybe their better natures took over. Maybe they went to their families, to hold their loved ones close instead of attacking half-conscious members of Skaikru.”

He regretted the words as soon as he said them. 

Miller added, “And my dad had no one. No family to go to. He was all alone.”

Jackson glanced at his lover now that his eyes had adjusted to the dim nightlights. Miller’s facial expressions could be hard to read. When he wasn’t being playful, Miller’s visage tended to appear steady and calm. It was calm right now.

“It is…at least **possible** that he remained knocked out until the end,” Jackson offered. 

“But you said less than fifty percent,” Miller said flatly. “We will never know.” He said the words slowly, closed his eyes, and repeated them with finality. “We will never know.”

Later, under the covers, they held each other tightly. Miller had always been a tender and gentle lover, belying his bulk and brute strength. He had been even more so tonight, despite – or because of – the mental agony. And Jackson focused on what he always did – being as giving as possible.

“You have tears in your eyes again,” Miller whispered, reaching a hand to wipe them away. 

“You could cry too,” Jackson whispered back. “It might help.”

“I can’t. I can’t cry.” 

***

Several days later, Jackson and Miller sat with Kane, Abby, and Jaha in a small corner of the hydrofarm. The plants rendered it the most scenic place in the bunker – of course that was a pretty low bar - and those with top-level clearance like the group assembled today tended to use it. They arranged their chairs into a circle.

“We are here today to honor the life of David Miller,” Jaha began. 

Miller had always liked Jaha’s voice. It was weighty and soothing. Traces of it reminded him of his father’s voice. He lost himself in just listening to it, without following the specific words Jaha was saying.

‘Here I am,’ Miller thought as Jaha continued talking, ‘sitting with the two men who decided that my father’s life wasn’t worth saving. And now they claim to honor him.’

He and Jackson had had the debate many times before getting to this moment. No one else in the bunker had known David Miller better than the people assembled here today. They couldn’t have the memorial service without Jaha and Kane. But how was he supposed to forgive them, let alone tolerate this?

He wanted to hit them or scream at them, but what would that do other than potentially getting Miller tossed into the brig? And besides, these were the two men who also had decided to save him, Nathan Miller, despite that Nathan was a simple grunt who didn’t possess any special skills….

_….Jaha and Kane didn’t have much time, not with armed grounders standing over them insisting that they hurry as they made their selections, as the destruction of the world breathed down their necks. “Save the son, not the father,” Kane had said, looking at the Millers lying on the ground. It made sense. They had several extra spots given that many people on the list – Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, and others who’d either gone with Jasper or just not made it to the bunker – were not there. There had been David’s pleas to save his son. There had been the fact that Nathan was one of the 100, that he was 18 and strong and responsible, that he was a good fighter. There had also been the desire to keep one of the bunker’s only doctors happy by saving his mate. The decision to give Nathan one of the spots was not hard…_

…“We don’t know whether or not he woke up before Praimfaya hit,” Jaha was saying. “But I feel in my heart that your father went peacefully, Nathan. Had he been awake, I know he would have been glad that his son was spared. But I know in my soul that he was not awake, and that he went peacefully into the night.”

Miller glanced at Jackson. His lover was a doctor, a man of facts and data. He didn’t think that Jackson shared Jaha’s faith in this matter. Miller would always treasure Jackson’s honesty. He made a note to tell him that again, after the memorial. 

Kane said a few words, and then Abby followed. Miller thought what they said was good, but he felt a bit light-headed and couldn’t always listen. If his father had woken up, he wondered, maybe he hadn’t been alone. Maybe the members of Skaikru had huddled together and supported each other before the fire hit. Maybe the grounders had changed their ways, with Praimfaya upon them. 

Or had David’s death been one of agony? Being burned by the fire, being mutilated by grounders. And how would Miller deal with not ever knowing the truth?

Jaha then asked Jackson if he wanted to say anything. Miller held his hand as Jackson said a few words. He hadn’t known David well, but he related a few anecdotes from times he’d treated his wounds over the years. They always revolved around his love for his son. He blushed slightly as he spoke. “I also wanted to thank you, Kane and Jaha, for honoring David’s wishes and saving Nathan,” Jackson was saying. “I had found this kind of love for the first time in my entire life. We had five days together, and then we both knew that one or both of us might not make it. Thank you for allowing us to have this. I know David would have been happy.”

As Jaha turned to ask Nathan if he wanted to say anything, Miller felt the tears begin. He swallowed. There was no denying it, the tears were forming and would get their way. It felt kind of embarrassing but also something of a relief. Jackson squeezed his hand a bit tighter.

“Take your time,” Jaha said softly. 

What to say? ‘I forgive you’, to Jaha and Kane? Even though they had spared his own life when they hadn’t needed to. `I love my dad’? That was obvious. 

“I-“ Miller began. His voice choked. “I’ll try to make him proud.” He managed to get those words out as he felt a tear release itself down his cheek. “Thank you for being here today.” He nodded, and closed his mouth again. 

“Let’s say the prayer now,” Jaha said quietly. “Together.” He took a breath and everyone joined in, “In peace, may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again.”

Jackson continued to hold Miller’s hand tightly.

END OF CHAPTER ONE


	2. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In chapter 2, they’ve lived in the bunker for six months. The days of half-rations are gone, but everyone is still hungry. Jackson wants to share his rations with Miller, but Miller is hesitant to accept food from his partner – and Abby definitely would not approve.

**Setting**: The bunker, six months after Praimfaya

***

“Please take some of mine. You’re a lot bigger than I am. Stockier, I mean.”

Jackson’s words were sparse and quiet, as they always were. Carefully measured, using the same precision he used to measure out a life-saving dosage.

Miller sat next to him in the mess hall and looked down at his tin plate. Although not as meager as half-rations they’d endured before, the food on his plate still wasn’t enough to stave off the demands of his belly and mouth.

“Did I ever tell you about the food in Mount Weather?” Miller asked quietly, trying to change the topic. He left his fork on the table for now, wanting to stretch out mealtime for as long as possible.

Jackson let out a soft chuckle. “Yes. During one of our first conversations, in fact.” 

They were still a new couple at this point, and each had more than two decades of history to catch his partner up on. Miller had as much appetite to learn more about the depths of Jackson as he had appetite for food. 

“All the food we wanted,” Miller murmured. “For the first time in my life, I wasn’t hungry. I think I left a part of me there.”

Jackson reached for Miller’s hand and held it. “We leave parts of ourselves wherever we go.” He paused. “Now please. I insist. I’m not that hungry, and I don’t need as much food as you do. Take at least a third of what’s on my plate. I really want to do this for you.”

Miller took a breath. His free hand rubbed at his temples. “This is torture, Jackson, you know that,” he sighed. “The more you keep offering, the harder it is for me to refuse.” This was not the first time they had had this conversation.

“What’s keeping you from refusing then?” Jackson asked. “My logic is sound. You have a larger frame than I do. You carry a big gun all day, you walk around the entire bunker, your job is more physically demanding than mine – “

“That’s debatable,” Miller broke in. His eyes darted around the mess hall.

Jackson observed his lover for a moment or two. “You’re worried what others will think. If anyone seems me putting food onto your plate.”

Miller began to open his mouth, but then closed it. He believed in being honest with his loved ones. 

“It looks bad,” Miller said, closing his eyes and tilting his head slightly downwards. “People will think I’m a bad boyfriend.”

“I could care less what people think,” Jackson said, his voice firm. “Now. I am going to start spooning some of this onto your plate unless you say no.”

Miller could not bring himself to voice a refusal. He slowly nodded his ascent, and began to salivate knowing that he was going to get extra food today.

***

It was several weeks later that Miller had to make a trip to sick bay. A fight had broken out inside a bunk, Miller had stepped in to intervene, and a burly man had slammed Miller against the wall. At the time Miller arrived in sick bay, Jackson was performing surgery and so Abby gestured for Miller to sit down. 

Abby slowly began to patch up Miller’s wounds. “Nothing that time won’t heal,” Abby said. “Just keep the bandage on and don’t get it wet.” She paused. “Of course, I don’t need to tell you that. Your partner will keep a close eye on it.”

Miller furrowed his brow and looked up at Abby. It seemed like an affectionate smile should have accompanied her last remark, but Abby was frowning instead.

“Yeah,” Miller said, and he automatically smiled when talking about Jackson. “He takes good care of me.” 

“Too good.”

The words hung in the air. Miller fought his inclination to argue. He knew he couldn’t respond with anger, but he also wasn’t sure exactly what he should respond with. This woman was like a mother to the man he loved. He remembered the day – just about a year ago though it seemed like a lifetime had passed since - that Abby examined him, right before he and the rest of the 100 were sent to the ground. Back then he couldn’t determine whether she was a clinical and detached doctor or a loving and motherly one.

“He tends to put other people’s needs ahead of his own,” Abby continued. Her voice was firm, flat, and dry. Her eyes didn’t waiver from Miller’s. “I would hate to see someone taking advantage of that.”

Miller met her gaze steadily. He took a breath and stood up. “I think we done here, Dr. Griffin. I’m needed back at my post.”

***

Jackson engineered the meeting to occur a few days later. A concert had been scheduled in the evening. Entertainment outside of the events of the arena was a rare treasure, and most of the bunker’s 1,175 residents were gathered in the large hall to listen to the musicians. Two guitarists, a drummer, and a singer were doing their best to stay in the same key. Some folks sat up front and listened quietly, a few were dancing off to the side, several children ran about the hall oblivious to the music, and plenty of people in the back were having full conversations over the music.

Jackson skillfully maneuvered himself and Miller to a spot in the back, next to Abby and Kane. “We need to talk,” Jackson said, reaching one hand towards Miller’s shoulder and the other to Abby’s. 

“Yes,” Abby said, frowning. She knew that Jackson hadn’t been performing at his best the past few days.

Miller, too, knew that Jackson hadn’t been sleeping well and that it was decidedly not due to the fact that Jackson occasionally shared his rations with him.

“I’m going to move closer to the front to hear the music better,” Kane said diplomatically, knowing he needed to leave the three of them to resolve the situation.

Jackson delved right into the topic at hand. Their sparse world didn’t lend itself to long preambles or flowery words. “Every day here is a struggle, and I can’t have the two of you at odds with each other.”

“Your days would be less of a struggle if you had more to eat,” Abby stated, her voice clipped. She crossed her arms over her chest and ignored the look Miller was giving her.

“All of us could use more to eat,” Jackson responded evenly. “We could also use fresh air and sunlight and less violence – but we have to make do with what we actually have here.” He took a breath and said, insistently, “I have plenty to eat, Abby. Miller never accepts more than a fourth of my rations. And it’s not even every day that we do it.”

“I just do not like the fact that you put other people’s needs ahead of your own,” Abby said.

“You have no problem with him putting other people’s needs first when they are **your** needs, Abby,” Miller said, glaring at her. He had been doing the best he could with the situation but had reached the point where he needed to speak up.

Jackson placed a hand on Miller’s chest. “Please don’t fight, you two.” His voice became passionate. “I am doing my best to take care of everyone in this bunker. I can’t do that if the two people I love the most are always mad at each other. You know I love and respect both of you. I need you two to find a way to get along. I don’t know if the real issue here is food rations or if the real issue is control. But I am telling both of you right now that it is my choice whether or not to share my rations. Just like it is my choice to share my time and attention. Is that clear?”

For once, both Miller and Abby’s facial expressions mirrored each other’s. Both felt a mixture of surprise and admiration. These were more words than Jackson usually spoke, and delivered much more forcefully than either was used to from him.

Miller smiled with pride. “It’s clear, Eric.”

Abby pursed her lips. She was quiet. 

“Abby….” Jackson gently prompted. 

“Okay,” Abby finally said. “But if your weight drops below a certain number, then I am reserving my right as your doctor to tell you that you can no longer share your rations.”

Jackson shook his head. “I’m a doctor too, Abby, and I will decide how much I need to eat.”

Miller looked at Jackson and his heart pulsed with pride. A current of worry, however, ran underneath the pride. 

Abby looked steadily at Miller. After several beats, she said, “Promise me, Nathan Miller, that you will never take advantage of this wonderful man’s generosity.”

Miller crossed his arms. “I promise.” He, too, could issue a dramatic pause. “But I need you to promise the same.”

Abby nodded. “Alright,” she said. 

“Good,” Jackson said. “We’re all on the same page then, and I can sleep again at night without worrying that you two aren’t getting along.” He smiled. “Now come on. Let’s find Kane and enjoy this concert. Until another fight breaks out and we all have to get back on duty.”

***

That night, Jackson and Miller retired to their room. Like everyone in the bunker, they shared a room with several others. Unlike everyone else in the bunker, they also had a secret location which they used when they needed to be alone. This night, however, they were simply crammed into their regular bunk bed, trying to sleep along with their roommates, one of whom was already snoring loudly. Another roommate belched. 

If they spooned together, they found that they could fit on one bed. Miller wasn’t used to sleeping in this position and it often made his shoulder and arm sore, but he liked it anyway.

“Thank you,” Miller whispered in Jackson’s ear. “For the conversation with Abby today. I loved seeing you assert yourself.”

“I meant what I said,” Jackson whispered back. “I am a giver. But it’s my choice who I give to – and when and what.”

Miller forced his brain to respond instead of his baser instincts. Reminders of Jackson’s giving nature made Miller wish they were in their secret location where they could indulge….but he tried to will those thoughts away. Besides he knew Jackson was tired and really needed to sleep.

“I’m glad you and Abby were able to make your peace,” Jackson added, voice trailing off with a yawn.

Miller kissed the back of Jackson’s head. He felt his partner’s breath fall into a rhythm. At last Jackson was getting the sleep he needed. 

But Miller wasn’t. He remained awake for a long time, worried that there might be a grain of truth to Abby’s words. What if he did, indeed, take too much from Jackson?

END OF CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is lovingly drooled upon.


	3. Matchmaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading over to pre-bunker times now. This is my take on what we saw during the Season 4 episodes where Miller and Jackson first get together. On screen, Jackson makes the first move - who or what prompted him to make his famous offer to keep Miller company? Warning – there will be some actual sexing in this chapter!

**Setting ** : This chapter begins during season 4, episode 4: “A Lie Guarded”. Abby, Jackson, Miller, and others are on a boat heading for Becca’s island, to attempt to use nightblood to save the human race.

***

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Abby murmured. She and Jackson stood on one end of the ship next to each other, looking out at the water as the boat raced towards its destination. Green trees, tranquil water, and the cries of birds were among the wonders they observed. 

“I still can’t believe it sometimes,” Jackson whispered back. “I think my brain still doesn’t register it all.” He took a breath. “But it will all be gone if we don’t succeed.”

Abby placed a hand atop Jackson’s. “We will succeed. We have to. Life will go on,” she said firmly. 

She shot a quick glance behind them. None of the others were within earshot.

“Speaking of life going on,” Abby began, her voice taking on a new tone. “Did you know that Miller and his boyfriend broke up?”

Jackson chuckled, “You know that we doctors tend to find out everything that happens.” He took a look at Abby and saw that her expression was serious. He furrowed his brow as he asked, “Do you think I should talk to each of them separately? Make sure they are okay? Neither is in danger of harming himself, is he?” 

It was Abby’s turn for a wry smile. “Well, I think you should talk to ** Miller **. But not from the standpoint of a doctor or therapist.”

She let her words remain for a few moments as she glanced at Jackson. He turned to look out at the water again. 

After a bit, he remarked, “Weren’t you and I just talking about how the world might be ending soon?”

“Yes, and we were talking about how we’ll make sure it doesn’t,” she said forcefully. She touched her hand to his again. “I’d like to see you happy. Miller’s a good man. A few years younger than you - but he’s old for his age. Which I mean as a complement. And his father is a good man.”

Jackson couldn’t stifle a smile at that last comment. “Now you really sound like a matchmaker.”

“Okay,” Abby allowed. “But you deserve some love in your life,” she said with a shrug.

“I do experience love,” Jackson countered. He was still whispering, but his words were steady. “By taking care of everyone.”

“I know. I’ve never met a more giving person.”

“Romantic love isn’t everything,” Jackson said, with a slight frown.

“Maybe not. But it’s important. Being with Jake was one of the greatest aspects of my life, despite how it ended.”

As Abby spoke, Jackson took a moment to reminisce. He’d had a couple of boyfriends before. Neither relationship ever got serious but both had impacted him, and he thought about them sometimes over the years. Were they never good matches to begin with? One man didn’t like that Jackson spent most of his waking hours in sick bay, which was understandable. The other had gently let him down to be with someone else. Neither case had ended with a dramatic fight or agonized crying. 

“Rejection is hard though,” Jackson finally said.

Abby took a breath and tilted her head. “I might’ve had a conversation with David Miller.”

“And…what might that conversation have entailed?” Jackson had to admit that his heart rate had increased a bit. He quickly glanced behind their shoulders.

They were already standing close to each other, but Abby moved a fraction closer and lowered her voice even more. “Only that the younger Miller may have asked about you.”

Jackson was quiet for several moments, his mind turning over thoughts. “I look nothing like his ex,” he rasped. “Blond. Pale. Younger than me.”

Abby squeezed his arm. “There is more than one type of beauty,” she insisted, hoping her voice hadn’t risen too much.

Jackson swallowed and then was quiet again. Of course he had noticed Miller before - during the three months after Miller had returned from Mount Weather, when life had been calmer than it was now. But Miller had spent most of that time patrolling the area. And besides, Jackson had soon learned that Miller held out hope that Bryan, and the rest of Farm Station, had survived -- and thus men other than Bryan were simply not on Miller’s radar. Jackson had silently admired Miller’s loyalty, and had left it at that. And then, of course, Bryan had been found along with the other survivors from his station. 

“If we get together, then I guess I can say our parents set us up,” Jackson finally said with a slight smile. 

Abby nodded, and noticed Raven heading their way. And one of the guards leaned over the rail, finally succumbing to seasickness. Fortunately, Jackson had packed a remedy for that. 

His conversation with Abby was over, but he kept replaying her words. Miller. Miller, who had asked about him. Miller, who probably was interested in him. Jackson only wondered how he would be able to focus on nightblood now.

***

Miller’s ears absorbed the suggestion: “Or I could keep you company.”

Had Jackson really just said that? Wait, of course he had. The last few days had been a whirlwind of hope, disappointment, and then finally raw fear as death – and the destruction of the entire world – looked to be imminent. Miller had seen plenty of horrors during his short lifetime, and he was doing his best to take the chaos in stride as he always did. 

Miller hadn’t really had much time to spend with Jackson, despite the island offering something of a respite. There had been a few moments though. There had been a look here and there, and a touch that had lasted longer than it should have. Miller had some experience in this area and felt he understood what was going on.

So, several hours after Jackson’s suggestion, the two men were finally alone inside the rover, sitting side by side. For a split second, Miller considered his options. He didn’t like to scheme or strategize to play out every scenario, but he had to think about whether this could be just a hookup, something more, or whether nothing at all would happen. He glanced at Jackson and finally decided that whatever the case, the third option was unlikely and he was at the very least going to get his lips on Jackson’s lips tonight. 

Miller opened his mouth to say something, but Jackson spoke first. “I, uh, examined your dad’s injury the other day,” Jackson began. “It looks like it’s completely healed.” 

Okay, Miller had to admit that this was an unusual opener, since talking about one’s parents was usually not considered flirtation material. But then he realized something. Obviously Jackson was looking for a deeper connection, bringing up a topic that he knew was important to Miller. Miller appreciated that.

“Yeah, I noticed the other day. You’d hardly think that he was ever injured.” Miller smiled. “We got good medical care in Arkadia.”

Jackson returned the smile. It was hard to see in the dark, but Miller surmised that Jackson looked a little paler than usual, and that unless it was a trick of his mind, his voice had sounded a smidgeon higher-pitched than usual as well. 

“Thank you.”

“So, what about you?” Miller asked. “I realized that I don’t know anything about your family. Do you have any left?” He knew these were treacherous waters since everyone on Arkadia had lost loved ones. But Jackson had set the stage for a conversation about family, and thus Miller didn’t want to ignore the topic.

“No blood relatives,” Jackson said. “My mother died 10 years ago, after a long illness. We were really close. I made the decision to become a doctor after that.”

Miller nodded. That story had been fairly well-known on the Ark, with Jackson being one of their only doctors. And Jackson had always been beloved among most or all of the Ark’s inhabitants. Miller’s pulse picked up a bit at that thought, especially given that he himself at one point had been just a delinquent. 

“We are all really lucky to have you,” Miller said. “And I’m – I’m really sorry for your loss. Tell me a bit about her. If you don’t mind.”

Jackson went on to talk about Mary. Miller listened intently, filing away a few tidbits about this woman who had meant the world to Jackson. He asked a few follow-up questions, and Jackson gladly answered them. Miller then said, “I think I remember the first time I met you.”

“You do?” Jackson asked, his eyes wide.

Miller nodded. “Up on the Ark. I mean, of course it was on the Ark. I got injured playing basketball. I thought it was weird that the doctor wasn’t that much older than me – I was 14 at the time. But you patched me right up, and I went back to see you a few times for you to check on it. I looked forward to going.”

“I’m glad. But, uh, I don’t remember the first time I met you.”

They chuckled over Jackson’s admission. “It’s okay,” Miller said. “You can’t remember the first time you encounter every single patient, especially when you have 2,000 of them.” 

Miller then took a breath, and began again, his tone serious now. “So, you know, I’ve done some bad things. I stole. That’s how I became one of the 100. I broke the law. And then when I got down here, I shot at grounders and I’m sure I killed a few.” He wanted to get that out onto the table. Not that Jackson didn’t already have this information, but if anything more than a hookup was going to happen, Miller wanted to communicate that he was aware of his past mistakes.

Jackson instinctively reached for Miller’s hand. “That was in battle. You were defending your people.” He shook his head as he said, “And that’s nothing compared to what I did. The man we called Baylis is dead, and I share part of the blame. And….I was about to do it to Emori. I don’t know how I can look her in the eyes again.” He took a breath.

“Hey, hey….you were trying to save the human race. You had no choice. I don’t have a problem with it. If my death could save everyone else on the planet, then I would volunteer for it any day.”

“I asked Abby if I could take Baylis’ place, but she said no,” Jackson said quietly. 

“That doesn’t surprise me that you made the offer – it was the right call on her part to say no though,” Miller said. Jackson’s hand was warm in his own. “You always care about everyone else.” He paused and then said, his voice smooth, “So hey…I’m really enjoying talking to you and I feel like I could talk to you forever. But at the same time, I’m wondering if I could kiss you?” 

Miller meant the words exactly as he said them. He wanted to talk to Jackson all night, but he also desperately wanted kissing and whatever else Jackson was up for. There was also the bittersweet fact that their time was limited.

“Yes, please,” Jackson said. 

The men turned towards each other and began to kiss. Miller had kissed his share of men before. Jackson’s lips were what he had hoped for. Soft, sweet (even a bit minty – had he chewed a mint leaf before he got into the rover?), deliberate. Jackson took his time, Miller noticed. He reached a hand around to stroke Jackson’s hair. It felt smooth and clean.

After many long moments, Miller kissed a bit more insistently. His tongue lapped against Jackson’s. His heart rate accelerated and he felt blood rushing throughout his body. Miller noticed that Jackson seemed good with the pace, so after a bit he said, “This seat folds down so we could get comfortable. If I am not being too presumptuous.” 

“You’re not being presumptuous at all!” Jackson responded, not hiding his enthusiasm.

“I am so glad you offered to keep me company,” Miller said, chuckling, as he shifted around and reached for the lever to flip the seat down. He took Jackson’s responses to mean that some form of sex was going to happen, and he wasn’t about to hide his happiness either. He was nearly giddy with eagerness, though he also tried to remind himself that Jackson seemed to operate under ‘slow and deliberate’ so he’d need to follow suit – despite the fact that his heart raced and various body parts of his began to scream out urgent needs.

“There we go,” Miller said. “We can lay down. But it’s awfully hot in here so we’d better take all our clothes off.”

“You’re so right, Miller,” Jackson smiled. 

After quite a bit of fumbling in the small space, all garments were discarded. Miller gestured for Jackson to lie on his back, and Miller positioned himself on top. The position made sense; Miller had more upper body strength and could hold himself up longer. He resumed passionately kissing the other man. Miller was already hard, and he could feel that Jackson was the same. 

Apart from the carnal aspects, just the feel of Jackson’s skin against his own was intoxicating. It was delicious. Miller held himself up with one arm and used the other hand to start roaming Jackson’s body. The thrill of the new. Jackson’s hands were not idle either, as they slowly explored every part of Miller they could reach. Miller knew that his own skin was rough and calloused, but so was almost everyone else’s. He did enjoy his own muscular build, and he hoped Jackson was enjoying it too.

“Is this ok?” Miller broke away after more passionate kisses. “Am I pushing things too far?” He didn’t want to ask the obvious, but he knew it was worse to presume - so he wanted to give Jackson another chance to speak up if he didn’t like the direction or the speed. 

“You have my full consent for anything,” Jackson said, smiling. Then in an instant he sobered up and swiftly added, “Well, I mean, except for anything getting involving getting tied up or hit or anything like that.”

“Right! I mean no, no I’m not into anything like that. That’s weird shit.” They both laughed at Miller’s remark and his tone. He also decided not to make a joke about having left his whips and chains inside his bunk.

They resumed their kissing. Miller reveled in the combination of enjoying the affection, enjoying this sweet man who he hoped to spend a lot more time with, and enjoying the lust surging through his body. After more delectable kisses, Jackson suggested, “How about I give you some head?”

“Oh god, yes, please,” Miller murmured. They scrambled so that Miller lay on his back. Jackson slowly blazed a trail of kisses down Miller’s torso – stopping to tongue a nipple - and then brought his mouth to Miller’s hardness. 

“Oh my god,” Miller slowly hissed after not too long. Any other words were failing him now.

There had been a rumor going around camp that Jackson might’ve been a virgin, only because no one had remembered seeing him with a partner. (Despite the fact - or maybe because of it - that war and death lurked around every corner, Arkadian citizens still loved to gossip and talk about sex). But as Miller observed today, clearly Jackson was no virgin. Miller surmised the truth was that Jackson just wasn’t into hookups or casual sex but he must’ve had a boyfriend or two in the past. One didn’t spontaneously perform fellatio this well. 

Jackson broke away for just a second to ask if there was anything he could do to make it even better, but Miller just whispered, “Keep doing what you’re doing, this is perfect.” And moments later, “I’m almost there.” He moaned and groaned loudly as he went over the edge. 

Afterwards, Miller moved as if to reciprocate. “Just use your hand,” Jackson directed. “I’m really, really close.”

Miller grunted his ascent with the plan, and so Jackson resumed lying on his back. Miller held himself up with one arm and used his other to stroke Jackson. 

Miller enjoyed talking during lovemaking, so he murmured, “You were so, so good. You know that, right?” He dipped his head down to kiss the side of Jackson’s face as his hand continued to work him. As much as Miller liked to talk during sex, he liked for his lover to do the same. He sensed he was going to have to coax words out of Jackson though.

“Tell me what you like,” Miller whispered. “What do you enjoy in bed? I want to know more for next time too.”

Jackson’s breathing was labored and he clearly wasn’t going to last long, as Miller kept on stroking him. But Jackson answered, “I like a lot of kissing and touching. Like you did earlier; that was wonderful.” He broke off, needing to breathe more.

“Good. What else?” Miller asked, gently kissing Jackson’s neck which was arching upwards. He made the movements of his hand faster and firmer.

“Whatever else you want,” Jackson groaned. His release would come any second now. “Sucking you off. Bottoming for you, if you want.”

At that, Miller realized he was going to get hard again. “I’m the luckiest man on the planet, because I’d love to top you. Oh god I’m so glad you’d like that,” he said, and Jackson made even louder noises; Miller’s hand was soon drenched with Jackson’s release. When Jackson’s breathing slowed a bit, Miller bent down to give him another deep, slow kiss.

Jackson rooted around a second later, looking for something they could clean up with. “Here,” Miller said, reaching. The rover contained a supply of a certain leaf that Arkadians used for everything from toilet paper to cleaning rags. 

“Can we keep each other company again?” Miller asked, wiping his hand off. “I mean as much as possible before we all burn up five days from now?” He said his words with a laugh, but noticed that Jackson’s face looked as it often did – serious. 

“Yes. I’d, uh, really like that,” Jackson said. He then resumed his position laying on his back.

“I really liked our talk too,” Miller said, still sitting up. “I didn’t want to stop it; it’s just that I had to kiss you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Jackson took a breath. “Hey, we still have some time before we have to go get Emori and Murphy.” He reached for Miller and pulled him down a bit. He placed another kiss on Miller’s lips. “Maybe we could kiss some more.” Jackson reached a hand towards Miller’s groin which had been slightly stiff again ever since Jackson mentioned bottoming. “And maybe do other things too. I could take you inside me.”

Miller felt his insides begin to pound again with excitement. His hands shook slightly. “I’m so happy that you want to do that,” he said, echoing his words from a moment ago. “But, uh, we don’t have any lube here. Can’t do it without that!”

“We have lube,” Jackson said dreamily. “My med kit.”

Lube had always been a treasured item among Arkadians. On the Ark, adults had been given rations of aloe to use for that purpose, which was one of the most expensive items on the black market. Miller wasn’t sure if that was what Jackson had in his med kit or if it was something else. And he was too ecstatic to care right now.

“The world might be about to end, but I think I am the luckiest man alive,” Miller enthused, tilting his face heavenwards as if in gratitude. 

Jackson laughed at Miller’s glee. He gently stroked Miller’s chin as he said, “The med kit’s there, up front on the floor.”

Miller adroitly grabbed it and then returned to Jackson. His mouth found his lover’s mouth right away. “Mmmm,” Miller breathed, “I am going to kiss you all over…”

***

**Addendum: ** Several years later, during less happy times, inside the bunker.

Miller and Jackson lay together inside their bunk. The gladiatorial match had finished up, and Jackson had just returned to their room after treating the champion’s injuries. He was shaking as he threw his clothing onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed. He and Miller arranged themselves into their usual spooning position.

“Tell me a story, Nate,” Jackson whispered. “I just have to take my mind off of what just happened. Off the pits. Off the fact that we’re never going to see the sun again.”

“Shhhhh,” Miller said, his voice gentle like a breeze. They would have to content themselves with memories of what breezes felt like. “A story. Of course. Hey, remember Becca’s island? It was beautiful there. All that water surrounding it.”

Jackson sighed. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice agonized. “But all those bad memories. Baylis. Emori,” he winced as he said their names, remembering what he had done and what he had been about to do.

“What about the good times there?” Miller asked softly. “The rover. Our first kiss. Remember that?”

“How could I forget? That was so wonderful. All of it.” 

Jackson’s body seemed to slacken a bit. Miller knew his idea had been a good one. “That night in the rover,” he repeated. “We were so late picking up Murphy and Emori,” he murmured. “And then when we got them, we insisted that they drive so we could sit in the back together and kiss….”

Jackson let out a small laugh. “Murphy’s driving was terrible. And they knew right away what we were up to. Teased us during the whole drive.” He sighed. “And it’s all thanks to your dad talking to Abby beforehand.”

“Wait, what?” Miller asked, lifting his head up a bit. He kept his voice light but he couldn’t mask a hint of seriousness.

“Your dad. He went and spoke to Abby just before that. He said that you’d been wondering if I was single and if I liked men. Abby told me all about it, during the boat ride to the island.” He paused. “That’s a big reason why I was brave enough to offer to keep you company.”

“Um….” Miller wracked his brain, but there was no need to. He’d always taken love and romance seriously, and something like this he would not have forgotten. “I never talked to my dad about you,” he said with a bewildered laugh. “I mean…you know, I’m so glad you made that move in the rover, but I’m sure that I never talked to my dad about you.”

“But…Abby said that your dad approached her….” Jackson let his voice trail off.

They were both quiet. Eventually Miller said, “So, either my dad just took it upon himself to talk to Abby and make it sound like I was interested, or Abby made the whole thing up.”

“Or both of them planned it together,” Jackson theorized. “Wow. I, uh, I guess we could ask Abby. But either way, one or both of them set us up.” 

They giggled. It started as a small laugh, but then Jackson laughed harder and louder, and then Miller followed suit. They desperately needed an excuse for laughter.

One of their six roommates spoke up. “Can you guys shut up please?” she yelled. 

A friend of hers had died in the arena tonight, reminding Miller and Jackson – as if they needed it – of the hell they were living in. But as they said to each other every day, at least they had each other. 

**END OF CHAPTER**


	4. Hope

**Setting **: Taking place very soon after the previous chapter. With Praimfaya inevitable, the clans are holding a conclave. Clarke and Jaha have decided to move their people into the bunker. As for Jackson and Miller, they are with the final group which is packing up the last of Arkadia’s equipment and supplies to bring to the bunker. What do you do if you think you’ve finally met the person who might be your soulmate, but the world looks likely to burn up in a few days?

***

The entirety of Nathan Miller’s personal belongings were stashed inside his backpack, as he made his way to med bay. It was bizarre seeing Arkadia this empty. A dozen members of the guard, led by Miller’s own father, were conducing their sweeps, ensuring all essential supplies were packed up and ready to go. Miller eagerly volunteered to check on med bay. The sounds of his boots hitting the ground echoed loudly now that Arkadia was mostly abandoned. Miller hadn’t seen Arkadia since Ilian had burned part of it, and occasionally he would catch a whiff of burnt materials.

Three hours until the last convoy would make its way to Polis, and then into the bunker. Miller strode through the halls as he neared his target. His life, he reflected as he walked, had been a series of chaos mixed with agonizingly slow periods. There had been his time in the Sky Box up on the Ark, where the days crawled by and he couldn’t keep his eyes open in Pike’s class. Then came the insanity of being cast out from the Ark along with 99 others, each day fearing death - first by radiation then by grounders and illness and cold. Then followed a slower period in Mount Weather where he and the others had at first experienced the joy of having all the food they wanted, before they realized the horror of their situation and the need to fight to get out. After that, Miller had been blessed to be reunited with his father and resume his training as a guard. Life had felt almost normal during those three months. Miller’s fortunes changed again when he had been reunited with his boyfriend Bryan – only to have to spend the time afterwards battling Pike and ALIE, and then this latest threat to humanity known as Praimfaya. Time had been short, but in the midst of the chaos, Miller and Bryan had realized that they weren’t right for each other after all, and had decided to split up. So now here he was, heading for med bay, eager to lay his eyes on Jackson again. The sweet and gentle man he had spent a night of bliss with. 

Fleetingly, Miller wondered about the other people he cared about, his fellow “delinquents”. During the confusion and panic of recent days, it was hard to keep track of anyone, but Miller had especially admired Bellamy and hoped he was safe. Miller forced himself to put Jasper, Monty, and Harper out of his mind. He knew he’d need to focus his mental energy on the two who meant the most to him now: his father and Jackson. Caring about others had always been a liability, one that Miller could scarcely afford now.

At last, he reached med bay and his heart skipped a beat. It was empty. Shelves were stripped, cabinet doors left open, their insides bare. And no one was there.

“Jackson!” he called out, his voice almost a screech.

“I’m here!” Jackson replied, exiting the supply closet. “Just doing one last check of this closet.” 

Had it really been just over 24 hours since he’d been making love to this man, Miller wondered? Given the chaos they’d weathered since then, Miller couldn’t decide if it felt like much more time had passed or if 24 hours felt about right. In any case, he couldn’t stop replaying it in his head, over and over again. As soon as he had reported in to his father, Sargent Miller had asked him what happened. Miller had answered his father the same way he’d answered Murphy and Emori. ‘There were some developments,’ he’d smiled. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Miller said, instinctively rushing to hug Jackson. The doctor warmly returned the embrace.

“Med bay’s all packed up. A few guards were just here to take away the last of the boxes. How much time do we have?” Jackson asked, breathless.

“Actually, quite a bit. Three hours.” Miller stepped out of the embrace to look at Jackson, trying to guess at his thoughts and feelings. Well, Miller figured, there would be no way of knowing without talking and asking. “So, we may or may not burn up with the rest of the planet in four days. But if we are about to die, I don’t think I can go out unless I kiss you again.”

Jackson exhaled and smiled. “I was thinking the same thing! I’m so glad you’re here.” His eyes darted around. “Um, do you have time?”

“Yeah. I’m done with my sweep. I’m all good.”

Jackson’s eyes locked with his. “My quarters are just down the hall then. Come on.” 

Jackson reached for Miller’s hand and held it as he led him to his room.

***

“Your eyes are beautiful,” Miller said. “I’ve been meaning to say that ever since the rover.”

A hint of redness appeared on Jackson’s face. “You – um, your everything is beautiful,” Jackson retorted. His voice again was back in the breathless zone. “It was like being made love to by a god.”

“Wow,” Miller responded, grinning and almost laughing. “No one’s ever said that to me before!”

“Sorry! Was that too much?” Jackson asked quickly, his shoulders slightly riding upwards.

“No, no. Please keep it coming. And kiss me again.” Miller pulled Jackson back towards him for another kiss. They had been sitting on Jackson’s mattress, kissing. The sheets, blankets, and almost everything else had been packed up. Jackson, too, had condensed all of his personal effects into one backpack to bring with him to the bunker. He had done the same thing six months ago when the Ark went down. His most valued items were two that had belonged to his mother: a necklace, and a book with a personal inscription.

Jackson eagerly returned the kiss, his hands caressing the back of Miller’s head and anything else he could reach.

“Hey,” Miller said softly, breaking away. “Are you hungry? I wasn’t sure if you had time to eat so I brought an extra bar for you.”

Jackson looked down for a second. “I have to be honest. Between what’s going on outside and – well – **us **, I just haven’t been thinking of food at all.”

Miller’s heart skipped a beat. He had known that despite Praimfaya looming – or maybe because of it – he was going to need to talk with Jackson about whether or not there was an “us”. He knew it must have been hard for Jackson just now to imply that there was something more here, beyond a night of sex inside the rover.

“I get it. Well, let’s save it for later then,” Miller said, with a tender smile. 

“I appreciate that you were thinking of me,” Jackson said, and then gently stroked the side of Miller’s face. “That was so sweet.”

Miller reached for the hand that was stroking his face and kissed it. He looked into Jackson’s eyes as he did so. “So, should we make use of this bed – and this door that closes and locks? I don’t know what the accommodations are like in the bunker, but rumor has it that they might not be this private.”

“Yes,” Jackson said. Surprisingly to Miller, Jackson stood up. “I need to wash first. I haven’t done so since Becca’s island.”

As Jackson reached for an old, raggedy towel – one he wasn’t planning to bring with – and a basin of water, Miller remained sitting on the bed. He politely turned away and just kept talking. He heard Jackson disrobe and begin to wash. “Ah, that island. I almost want to forget about what it was like there. That shower was insane. Hot water at the touch of your fingertips. Soaps that had…scents to them. Nice scents. And the beds there! I couldn’t sleep on them, they were too soft. I just rolled out my mat and slept on the floor.”

Miller – still keeping his back to Jackson - took out the nutrition bar he’d brought. “I’m gonna put this bar in your backpack so you can have it later, ok?” Miller asked. Upon receiving Jackson’s affirmative, he continued on, “And speaking of food – oh, the food in that kitchen on Becca’s island! I can’t believe people used to live like that. Although Mount Weather had pretty good food too. Seriously, I almost wish I’d never seen Becca’s place. I told some of the other guards about it but they didn’t believe me.” He paused and slowed down, “But…well, all the luxury at Becca’s - it all pales compared to our time inside the rover. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Me too.” Jackson was back, standing before him. The towel had been discarded. 

Miller paused for a moment to just admire the site in front of him. “Oh! Well, this works out well,” Miller said, grinning. “Let me take you inside my mouth. You wouldn’t let me do it last time.”

“Only if you promise to fuck me again.” Jackson paused. “I have lube.”

Jackson’s forthright words set Miller’s pulse pounding. “I packed some too. Man, they better be growing aloe in the bunker like they did on the Ark!” With that, Miller reached for Jackson and put his mouth and lips to work.

Some time later, they were finished. Jackson had lain on his back this time, with Miller on top of him. Miller had enjoyed that position immensely as he’d been able to look into Jackson’s eyes as he’d thrust inside of him. He’d been able to kiss Jackson’s mouth and not just the back of his head like last time. His ex Bryan hadn’t liked this position; he’d found it uncomfortable to pull his knees up towards his chest or have his legs up. Miller was glad Jackson had liked it. Then a second later, he silently berated himself for making comparisons. ‘Well, I’m only human,’ he reminded himself. ‘Comparisons happen.’

He reached to kiss Jackson again, remembering that Jackson had said he liked lots of kisses.

“Loved every second of that,” Jackson breathed.

Miller cuddled against him. “Me too. If we do die in four days, at least I can say I’m happy right now.”

“Yes.”

Miller then propped himself up on one arm, and ran his other hand along Jackson’s chest. “Hey Jackson,” he began pensively. “I gotta say something. I’ve never been into hookups or casual sex – whatever you call it. If we don’t die in four days…did you want to make a go of it? I mean, be my boyfriend?” 

Miller wasn’t crazy about the exact words he’d just used and it was always scary to reveal yourself like this, but he’d also known there wasn’t going to be a perfect way to express what he needed to express. He knew it was more important to just get the sentiment out, and see where Jackson’s head was at instead of assuming anything. Miller wasn’t confused about his own feelings. This – him and Jackson - **just felt right **, and he suspected that Jackson was on the same page.

But if he wasn’t, then, well, Miller would want to know that now.

“Absolutely,” Jackson said. He exhaled slightly after the words came out. “I was hoping from the start that this would be more than just sex.”

“Is it crazy to be discussing this when we both really might be dead in a few days?” Miller asked, his eyebrows raised.

“No,” Jackson replied, his look serious as usual. “What could be more important than love? Or hope for the future?”

“You give me hope.” Miller stroked Jackson’s face as he said it. He fleetingly thought Jackson would look even better with facial hair and thought that if they survived, he might mention the idea to him someday.

At that, Miller’s watch beeped. 

“Does that mean what I think it does?” Jackson asked. 

“Yep,” Miller sighed, reluctantly shifting his position. “Time to get ready to head out.” 

No sooner were both men dressed and strapping on their backpacks, when a knock sounded on the door. “Dr. Jackson? It’s Sargent Miller,” called the deep voice on the other side.

Jackson and his boyfriend exchanged a glance. Miller opened the door. “Hi, Dad. You’ve come to get us? We’re ready.”

Sargent Miller paused for just a beat or two and looked at both men. “Good,” he said. “It’s time to move out.” He then put a hand on each man’s shoulder. “I’m glad to see you two together.” With that, he turned and led them down the hallway.

Miller mouthed the word ‘awkward’ at Jackson, and the doctor had to stifle a laugh. They followed Sargent Miller and reached the outside, where the last group of rovers were being filled up with members of the guard and some of the last of the supplies. 

Miller and Jackson, after tromping through the muddy ground, piled into a rover, along with Sargent Miller. Arkadia had only been Miller’s home for a few months, but he still felt a lump in his throat when he turned to look upon it for the last time. 

***

As the caravan pulled away, Miller had glanced at some of the other rovers. He glimpsed a blond guard behind the wheel of one of them, turned to look harder, and ascertained that it was, indeed, Bryan. For Miller and the other survivors of Praimfaya, the next several days were as frenzied as any others they’d endured. But at some point his mind had simply registered the fact that Bryan’s rover had never made it to the bunker. He would never know exactly why; he would never know that it had gotten cut off from the others, fallen victim to a few very well-aimed arrows, to a hoard of angry Azgedan fighters. 

***

**Setting: Two weeks later, inside the bunker **

Jackson had known that Miller would have good days and bad days. True, everyone inside the bunker seemed to veer wildly from misery at their circumstances to occasional ecstasy at having been chosen to survive. True, Miller put on a brave face and seemed to weather life’s ups and downs as well as – or better than – anyone else. But Miller had also just lost his father.

Today was a bad day. Miller had tried to hide it. He’d gone through his day’s actions the same as any others, had kissed Jackson before heading out for his shift. But his eyes told the truth, as did the fact that Miller had tossed and turned the night before. Miller was hurting.

Miller’s rounds took him by med bay several times a day. Jackson intuited when he’d next be around, and now that med bay was finally at a lull for the day, he was ready for his boyfriend. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Jackson began, ushering Miller into med bay. “You have a second, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Miller nodded, his eyes downcast. 

It killed him to see Miller looking so melancholy. Jackson took a quick glance around the room. One patient was sleeping, and the second patient sat on a bed speaking to a friend. Med bay was empty apart from them.

“A little gift,” Jackson said, smiling. 

Inside the bunker, there were several ways you could show someone you cared about them. There was sex (always popular despite the lack of privacy here), there were things like massage (which some people confused with sex), there was finding Niylah and hoping she had a book or something else to trade, there was giving someone the gift of listening to them. 

And there was the gift that you only bestowed upon someone you loved more than you loved yourself – food.

Jackson knew that he couldn’t take his boyfriend’s pain away – losing a beloved parent was not something you ever really recovered from, no matter how many other people had suffered similar losses. But he could show Miller how much he cared. And the look on Miller’s face, when he saw the nutrition bar that he’d given to Jackson right before they left Arkadia, infused Jackson with warmth and hope

END OF CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bryan's fate is never shown on screen; we never see him again after 4x2 when he breaks up with Miller. Sachin Sahel (who plays Jackson) has reportedly said that Bryan made it to the bunker but was not one of the chosen. However, we don't actually see this on screen; in any case, I apologize for contradicting Sachin!


	5. Faint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prior to their scenes on Becca’s Island, Miller and Jackson had little or no screen time together. I always wondered if and when they’d interacted before then, off camera. Perhaps Jackson’s offer to keep Miller company was not the first time that Miller saw Jackson as a potential love interest.

**Setting: ** Early in Season 4, shortly after Miller has broken up with Bryan.

***

“Dr. Griffin! Dr. Griffin! Come quickly – Dr. Jackson fell down!”

A young woman rushed up to Abby, who had been about to eat her lunch. Miller happened to be in the mess hall during the commotion, and although he was off-duty, he decided that he may as well follow Abby to med bay. His help might be needed. Abby rushed down the corridors quickly, and Miller easily kept pace with her.

They reached med bay to find Jackson, indeed, lying on the floor with a crowd of people surrounding him. “Move out of the way!” Abby ordered.

Miller gently nudged the crowd to take a few steps back. He observed Abby’s work. She seemed to first ensure that Jackson was breathing, and then she began to loosen his clothing. “I think he fainted. Help me get him on his back and elevate his legs!” Abby called out. 

Miller wasn’t sure whom Abby was addressing, but seeing how everyone else had backed away, Miller squatted down by Abby. He did as she ordered. She shook Jackson vigorously, and soon his eyelids fluttered.

Miller continued to kneel by Jackson’s feet as he observed the two doctors. It became apparent that Jackson was going to be fine, other than a bump on his head from the fall. Abby - and Jackson himself once he seemed to have his wits again - ascertained that he had indeed fainted.

“When’s the last time you ate anything?” Abby was asking him. “Or the last time you slept?”

“I have no idea, there’s too much going on here for me to ever leave med bay,” Jackson said groggily. His words were straightforward, said without pity though also without humor. 

“Hmm,” Abby intoned. She shifted her gaze from Jackson to Miller “Miller. Please carry Dr. Jackson to his quarters. He desperately needs rest and food, and he’s never going to get any rest in here. Station a guard outside his quarters so we can ensure he’s not disturbed. For at least eight full hours. And find someone to bring him his rations. I’m guessing he should have at least a full day’s rations that he hasn’t claimed yet, and possibly two day’s worth.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Miller said. He was a member of the guard and it was his job to ensure everyone’s safety, and to take orders. Abby was a former chancellor. He didn’t find her bossy; in fact, he found something very appealing about her assertiveness in caring for the younger doctor. 

“Can you walk or should I carry you?” Miller asked Jackson. He noticed his heart was beating rapidly; it was disquieting to see one of Arkadia’s only doctors lying on the floor, even though he knew Jackson would be fine.

Jackson opened his mouth to reply, but Abby looked at Miller and ordered, “Carry him.”

***

Jackson was heavier than Miller would have thought. He was tall and lean but clearly, Miller now realized, muscular too. 

“So, uh, where is your room?” Miller asked. 

Jackson gave him the number. As they moved through the corridors, they encountered a few curious onlookers. One or two people asked, “Is he okay?” and another said, “You’re going the wrong way - med bay is back that way.” Miller continued to walk swiftly, not stopping to engage with anyone. Word traveled so quickly in Arkadia; they’d all hear the rundown sooner or later. 

They reached Jackson’s room. A few quick glances revealed that it was immaculate – unlike the room Miller used to share with Bryan. Two books sat on the desk; nothing was out of place. Miller gently lay Jackson down on the bed. He could carry any of his fellow guard members as far as needed – while also having a gun and a full backpack strapped to himself - but his muscles still always thanked him when he set something heavy down.

“It’s a little chilly in here,” Miller observed. “Let me see….where’s your spare blanket? Oh, it must be in the closet.”

By the time Miller retrieved it and returned his attention to Jackson, the doctor was already out. Miller’s heart skipped a beat. But he then silently observed Jackson and saw that he was breathing steadily. Nothing to worry about. ‘He really desperately needs some sleep,’ Miller thought.

Abby might have barked the orders out like a drill sergeant, but Miller recognized the wisdom behind them. He stood by Jackson’s bed for a few beats, just looking at the sleeping doctor. This man ran himself ragged, Miller knew. Hardly ever leaving med bay, hardly ever eating, not stopping for a moment as long as someone needed him. `God, if only everyone could be that selfless. We’d live in a different world.’ He shook his head. `A better one.’

Miller then decided to try to make Jackson more comfortable so he could sleep. He gently removed Jackson’s shoes and placed them on the floor. He draped the warmer blanket over him and tucked him in. Jackson remained asleep, steadily breathing, during all of Miller’s ministrations. In fact, he soon began to quietly snore.

Miller missed having someone to fuss over, he realized. It had only been about a week since he and Bryan had finally called it quits, but it felt like longer than that. It had been hard to accept the fact that Bryan wasn’t the one for him. Miller loved having someone to share a bed with, someone to hold at night. Yet he wasn’t at all tempted to patch things up with Bryan either. He shook his head. The 17-year-old Nathan Miller on the Ark who had fallen in love with Bryan (or, well, had fallen in “very deep like”) wasn’t the same Nathan Miller standing here today. 

He was jolted from his reverie by a soft strain of static from his radio. Miller quickly lowered the volume, so as to not risk waking Jackson. It was time to check in with his unit, explain his situation, and complete the rest of Abby’s orders. Miller took one last look at Jackson, still sleeping peacefully, looking almost angelic, he mused. On impulse, he reached for Jackson’s foot – hidden under the blanket – and affectionately squeezed the top of it.

Miller berated himself the second afterwards. You don’t touch someone’s body when they can’t consent to it, even if your intentions are pure, even if it was just a harmless squeeze of the foot. Damn. What had made him want to touch Jackson? Would Jackson ever welcome a man’s touch? Miller had never considered the question before, had never before speculated on Jackson’s romantic life and preferences. Now he wondered. Did Jackson, like Miller, yearn for a partner, for someone to share the day’s events with, someone to dream about a peaceful future with? Miller remembered the dreams he and Bryan used to share – for an end to the fighting, for a house on a lake, for a farm and chickens. Did Jackson want those same things? Did he also want a partner, and if so what did he look for in one? Arkadians loved to talk and gossip when they had time, and now that he thought about it, Miller could recall having heard all sorts of rumors about Jackson over the years. He was celibate…no, he’d had a boyfriend years ago on the Ark…no, he and Abby were secret lovers. (Miller seriously doubted the last one). Who knew what the truth was?

It was time to leave Jackson’s quarters. Miller again looked at the doctor over his shoulder, and then left the room. When the door had closed, he radioed a fellow guardsman to pick up Jackson’s uneaten rations and to bring them here. Although technically off-duty, Miller decided he would stand guard here for at least a few hours, until someone had the bandwidth to relieve him. Jackson needed the rest. This was one small thing he could do for the man who took care of so many others.

**Addendum**

Setting: Years later, inside the bunker

***

The day ended as it usually did. Jackson and Miller, too exhausted to head for their private space in med bay, crammed themselves onto one bed inside their shared room. Miller had gotten used to sleeping spooned, though sometimes his shoulder still protested. And more than once Jackson had rolled off onto the floor during the night; the couple couldn’t decide if it was comic or tragic when that happened. 

The horror of the day just passed had been much like any other inside the bunk. It had become almost banal.

“Tell me a story,” Jackson whispered. This request had become common for them too, since both men were often too wound up or too disturbed or too hungry to sleep. And stories were important; both men had read every book inside the bunker more than once. “But not another ghost story.” 

“Let me think,” Miller whispered back. They had learned the right modulation to keep their voices at in order to not wake their sleeping roommates. 

“Okay, I’m really blanking on anything that’s not a ghost story,” Miller finally said. “Can you be the storyteller tonight? Tell me again about when you first came down to earth from the Ark. We haven’t talked about that for a while.”

“Yeah,” Jackson acquiesced. He began the tale again, about how the abrupt departure of the Exodus ship had dealt the Ark its final blow. Jaha had told everyone that this was it, and that rationing was over. “I’d always known that life was precarious on the Ark and now it seemed it was really ending.” Jackson wanted to spend his last hours being useful, so he and Abby had tended to a patient, but she didn’t make it. And then their fortunes turned around again when Jaha called everyone back together and said they had a way down.

“Take me right there,” Miller insisted. “Like what did it feel like and what was going through your head?”

“Well, I was terrified but I tried not to show it. I felt I had to look calm. I remember following Abby but Kane told us to separate – that we couldn’t have both doctors in the same station in case one of our stations blew up. Sinclair had promised that at least one station would blow. Abby gave me a quick hug. I just tried to breathe and I tried to remind myself that I had no control over the outcome. But being reminded just then, that that might really be my last day alive - that was hard. I reached the station that Kane sent me to, and Jaha was there I think. I remember holding onto a pillow. I remember hoping that if we did blow up or crash that it would be over quickly, and hoping that there’d be an afterlife and I’d see my mother again. All those thoughts were rushing through my head and I just tried to breathe in and out. And then weirdly – all of a sudden it was over and we’d landed. People in the station were just looking around and laughing and smiling, almost hysterically. And once that hatch was opened and we stepped outside – then everyone got really giddy. Like almost crazy. I was almost dizzy when I stepped outside. I couldn’t stop just trying to fill my lungs with that air. It started to drizzle and I just stood in it for a few minutes with my head tilted back, stunned. But then I knew I had to get to work and see who was injured.”

Miller enjoyed hearing all these details, even though he’d heard them before. “What was your first night like on the ground?”

“Like usual – and like everyone else – I didn’t get to sleep for a long time because there was so much to do. It was endless. And I was too stirred up at having somehow survived the trip down. But I vaguely remember winding up inside a tent and just finding a pillow to put my head on. I was exhausted.” Jackson paused and squeezed Miller’s arm which was around his midsection. “I do have a clear memory of that night. I wished I had a man to share it with. I remember specifically that night feeling sad that I didn’t have a strong man next to me.” Again he paused, and then added, “I’d escaped death for the moment, though I knew I might not escape it again because of all the unknowns on the ground. For the first time in my life I’d breathed fresh air and seen the sun and touched the bark of a tree that was rooted in the ground. I’d loved all that but I still wanted a man to put his arms around me. So you see, I count myself lucky right now.”

Miller quietly chuckled. “Anyone would think we’re flat out crazy for saying we’re lucky now. But I agree.” He planed a kiss on the back of Jackson’s head.

Miller then added, “Hey when you were talking a minute ago about being exhausted…do you remember the time you fainted on Arkadia? It was before Becca’s island, before we got together - and I carried you to your room?”

Jackson took a breath. “I know that it happened, and you told me about it once before. But I don’t really remember it. Tell me again.” He was glad for this conversation. Their nightly talks always managed to take his mind off of their predicament. 

“Glad to,” Miller said. “I was in the mess hall with Abby and someone was screaming for her, saying that you’d fallen. I decided to go with Abby to see if I could be of any help…..”

**END OF CHAPTER**


	6. Poetry

**Summary: In Chapter Six, Miller is missing Bellamy and wishing for a confidante - when he finds an unexpected one. **

Miller wished he could talk to Bellamy. They had only known each other and worked together for a matter of months – minus the time Miller had been in Mount Weather – and yet Bellamy had left an indelible mark on Miller. He had functioned as a mixture of friend and big brother, a role that no one had played to that point. Miller had been close to his father too, especially since they were reunited after Mount Weather, but there were a lot of things that you could talk about with your friend/big brother but not your dad.

Well, no matter. Neither of them were here now. Miller’s father had perished in Praimfaya, and the last word from Bellamy had been that he and the others were going to try to ride out the five years back in space, on the ring. So yeah, Bellamy was probably dead too. Miller shook his head and muttered that his life was a wastebasket full of loss.

Well, no, he silently corrected himself, it wasn’t. He had somehow been one of the chosen ones, selected to live inside the bunker. And Miller somehow had found love, had landed a partner who made his heart ache with adoration. That was what Miler wished he could speak with Bellamy about today. 

He needed some advice on what to do, even though his “problem” was an enviable one. Miller had a lover who shared his rations with him, who gave him massages, who put up with him when he was sad or just grumpy, and who let him fuck him. It was a blessing, Miller knew, but it was also causing him worry. _How do I show Jackson that I appreciate him? Am I enough? _These questions had been coursing through Miller’s mind constantly during the year he’d lived inside the bunker, and he wanted someone to bounce them off of. 

Bellamy would’ve been the perfect person. He would’ve had a word of advice, he would’ve known just what to do. 

_How do I show Jackson that I appreciate him? Am I enough? _The questions continued to ricochet around inside Miller’s head.

*** 

One day inside the bunker looked much like the previous, but the bunker did operate on a schedule. Right now it was the start of a new morning, and Miller rubbed his eyes and then began to stretch atop the bed, delaying the moment when his sock-clad feet would need to touch the cold floor. Jackson had remained in med bay overnight, tending to a patient who needed extra attention. Miller gradually rose and made his way to the washroom. He took his sponge bath and dressed in his cleaner set of clothing. He stopped by med bay on his way to the mess hall, but saw that Jackson was in the middle of a procedure. So Miller continued on to the mess for the first of his two meals of the day.

Miller’s heart always skipped a beat when entering the mess hall; there was the usual hustle and noise of Wonkru getting ready to eat, and he had a place at the most honored table in the room. During most meals, Blodreina sat in the center of the table flanked by Kane, Abby, Indra, Gaia, Niylah, Cooper – and Miller and Jackson. Miller wasn’t sure how, but even back on the Ark he had somehow always landed with the cool kids. It was still a thrill, even inside a drab place like the bunker.

This morning, Indra announced that Blodreina would not be joining them, and that Wonkru should begin eating without her. Someone had placed a tray for Jackson next to Miller, and Miller nodded, saying he would take it to med bay right after this. 

As Wonkru ate, Miller sensed Abby’s eyes occasionally on him, no doubt making sure that he wasn’t about to tear into Jackson’s rations and wolf them down. Miller had to bite his tongue to keep from lashing back with his own criticism of Abby. Jackson had stayed in med bay overnight, easily racking up a double shift – wasn’t it time now for Abby to switch off with him? Miller shook his head. Getting into a fight with Abby over Jackson’s workload or rations was a battle he could not win, and it wasn’t really his to fight anyway as Jackson had made clear several months ago.

“What’s on your mind?”

The quiet voice belonged to Gaia. She sat to Miller’s left. 

“Me?” Miller asked. “Oh, uh, I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Gaia asked simply, raising her eyebrows. “The past few weeks, I’ve been wondering if you’re okay or not. You look as if you have something to get off your chest.”

Miller took another bite and chewed it thoughtfully. No one was paying attention to him or Gaia, he noted. Everyone at their table was absorbed in one or another conversation, and the rest of the mess hall was its loud self too. A crazy thought pinged Miller’s mind. Had Bellamy – from beyond the grave – somehow nudged Gaia and sent her as his proxy? Stranger things had happened.

“Yeah, well, everyone here has their problems and their losses,” Miller shrugged, trying to give Gaia another chance to bail from this conversation.

“They do. And sometimes it helps to talk about them.” Gaia’s voice was gently insistent. 

“Mine is – well, mine’s a good problem to have,” Miller said, with a half smile. He decided to dive in. If Bellamy had somehow made this happen, he owed it to his friend’s memory to avail himself of this opportunity. 

“My problem is that my partner is too good to me,” Miller admitted. He kept his voice steady but quiet. Abby sat on the other end of the table, but he didn’t want her to hear this. “He does so much for me all the time, and I can’t reciprocate. At least not to the level to match his giving.”

“Why not?” Gaia asked simply and non-judgmentally. 

Miller took a breath. “I offer to share my rations with him when he’s had a rough day, but he says no. I offer to massage him like he does for me, but he says he doesn’t need it. He does open up and talk to me, that’s good. But I’m in a bad mood half the time, so it’s usually him putting up with me and not the other way around. I’m not giving enough.” Miller left it there, though of course he had other examples. When it came to sex, Jackson insisted that he loved bottoming and had no desire to top, which Miller could only thank his lucky stars for since he didn’t like bottoming. Wonkru generally were not prudish about sex, and Miller was no exception, but regardless Miller felt that Gaia didn’t need that level of detail. 

Gaia was silent for a moment. She took a sip of her water. “So you have discussed this with him then? How you can give him more. Several times?”

Miller nodded. In some ways, Gaia was like his boss’s daughter – since Indra functioned as the head of the guard here. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake in opening up to her. 

And yet, Miller looked around the table and felt a comforting and yet painful pang in his stomach. The people around the table were his family now. No one could make up for the loss of his father, of course, or for Bellamy - but Wonkru had become family. Kane and Abby were like his uncle and aunt, even if he often wasn’t too fond of this aunt. Niylah was like a younger sister. Gaia, too, had become a sister. Indra was another aunt, the cool one, Miller decided. And Cooper, well, she was the cousin that Miller didn’t like but had to tolerate. Octavia and Jackson weren’t there right now, but Jackson obviously was the husband and Octavia…well, her role was more complex but Miller decided that right now she was basically the mother and the father – and maybe the grandmother and grandfather too. Any and every authority figure rolled into one. He could only marvel at how his and Octavia’s relationship had changed since they’d first landed on the ground.

“I have,” Miller answered Gaia’s question. “He just insists that I’m great, I’m wonderful, he loves me, and I don’t need to do anything else.”

Miller knew that Bellamy would’ve inserted a sarcastic comment here about the horribly difficult problem Miller was struggling with. Gaia, he knew, didn’t do sarcasm. She opened her mouth to reply, but then Abby stood up and approached Miller.

“I’m going to med bay to relieve Jackson,” Abby said. She reached for Jackson’s rations. “I’ll take his meal to him.”

Miller nodded and muttered a thank you, though he had to wonder if Abby was taking the food away to prevent Miller from helping himself to any. Miller never, ever ate any of Jackson’s rations unless Jackson offered them. And even then, only under protest. 

Once Abby took the food and turned to leave the room, Gaia touched Miller’s shoulder. “I have an idea,” she said. Her voice was its usual quiet, competent self but it had a hint of excitement in it.

“You do?” Miller asked, his tone rising a notch to match hers.

“Write him a poem.”

Miller nearly spat his food out. “A poem?”

“A poem,” Gaia repeated evenly. “Make sure it is original. Don’t copy something.”

Miller’s mouth still gaped and his eyes were wide. So Gaia continued, “Well you already asked him what he wants and you don’t have any other ideas. You need do something unexpected. It sounds like he loves you a lot. I think he would treasure a poem from you.”

“Gaia.” Miller stated her name flatly and paused. “I can no more write a poem than I can open the door of this bunker and rid the planet of radiation,” he finished with a sweep of his arm.

Gaia dismissed his concerns with a shake of her head. “Give it time. Think about how you feel when you see him, write down a few adjectives, play around with some words. Page through a few books to get some ideas, but like I said, be careful not to copy. I’d be happy to read a few drafts, or you can keep it just between the two of you. It doesn’t need to be long. It doesn’t even need to be that good. Just make it heartfelt.”

Miller closed his eyes for a second, and then opened them. Gaia had a point. Miller’s real goal here was to show Jackson that he loved him too, and to give him something to thank the doctor for all that he gave. Jackson was sweet and affectionate, and although they didn’t discuss books that often, Miller had a feeling that Jackson would be touched by this gesture.

Miller resolutely set his hands on the table. “I’ll do it. Worst poem ever, here we come. Thank you, Gaia. You’re brilliant!”

“I know.”

***

A few days later, Miller’s shift had ended and he was in the armory, putting his gun away. He was one of the few who Indra allowed access to the armory, a fact which made him happy. He turned when he heard a noise behind him. Suddenly Jackson was by his side, gently grasping the sides of his face and pulling him into a kiss.

Miller let out a moan of enjoyment. “This is nice,” he breathed. He reached his arms around Jackson and pulled him tight for more kisses. 

“That was beautiful,” Jackson whispered. “So beautiful. No one’s ever given me a gift like that.”

Miller beamed. He knew the poem wasn’t particularly good by any standards. But Gaia was right. It clearly had served its purpose of communicating love and appreciation. He couldn’t help but to feel pride, along with the love for Jackson that his heart throbbed with.

“I’m so glad you liked it,” Miller murmured. 

“Kiss me again.”

The two men remained in the armory, exchanging kisses both passionate and gentle. They ran their fingers and hands along the backs of each other’s heads, their ears, their bodies as they kissed. Miller loved the feel of Jackson’s mouth, and he appreciated the facial hair his lover had grown at Miller’s own suggestion. 

“That truly was the sweetest thing, I don’t have the words to say how much it means to me,” Jackson whispered again after several enjoyable minutes of kissing. “And who would ever have dreamed that you were a poet!”

“You’re the only force on this planet that could inspire to write a poem,” Miller said before he began to nibble on Jackson’s ear.

The door to the armory opened up, and the person whose shift was about to start entered. “I see I’m interrupting something. Just came here to get my gun and start my shift.”

“We were just leaving,” Miller said, with a bold smile across his face.

Jackson whispered into Miller’s ear, “Med bay supply closet.” Only Jackson and Abby possessed the keys for that room. The medical supplies had long been pushed aside and consolidated as much as possible to make room for a cot and a mattress, items which both doctors used with their respective partners. 

That morning, Miller had written the poem on the backside of a label of an empty medicine bottle and carefully placed it inside Jackson’s bag. As Miller had well known, it was amateurish but heartfelt. The first few lines were:

My love my love my love  
My heart aches with how much I adore you  
Am I enough?  
You heal my body and soul over and over again 

**END OF CHAPTER **

**Author’s note **: Season 6 gives us a brief glance of a Gaia/Miller friendship so I’m glad to bring it out here. Also, the first line of the poem was inspired by a Mackson edit posted on Instagram by Muultikru – so extra thank you to Muultikru!


	7. Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six years of hell in the underground bunker are over. Will Miller and Jackson get a few quiet moments together now that they – and the rest of Wonkru – are out of the bunker?

**Sunlight: Act 1 **

“This is my first time seeing you in sunlight in six years. You look good.”

“You know what they say, love is blind.”

Miller made the quip about love being blind, to Jackson’s sincere compliment. Jackson remained the more serious member of the couple; some things had not changed. Both men smiled at Miller’s remark, Jackson taking a silent moment to be grateful for the fact that Miller could still – after six years of grueling monotony inside the bunker – find humor in life.

Jackson continued to gaze at Miller. “I can’t believe we’re seeing the sun again. After all the….” Jackson let his voice trail off. He suddenly didn’t feel like rehashing it or stating the obvious. He touched a hand to Miller’s face. “I meant it though - you really do look good. It’s nice to see you in this light.”

Miller grasped the hand that Jackson had placed on his face and pressed his lips to it. His eyes were elsewhere though. Around them, more and more members of Wonkru continued to be lifted from the bunker. Their sketchy-looking rescuers swarmed around, causing a growing feeling of fear in Miller’s stomach. In the distance, Miller saw Bellamy talking to Clarke. His head spun, only partially from the fresh air. Miller knew he should be talking to Blodreina and Indra, trying to find Bellamy for a minute to catch up, and – most importantly - assessing the threat-level of their rescuers. Instead he was distracted. It was good to take a moment with Jackson to appreciate the fact that they were breathing fresh air. 

Other couples were definitely taking that moment, and being not a bit subtle about it. A wagon had survived Praimfaya, and one couple already was inside of it, apparently having sex, causing the wagon to rock steadily. Miller almost scoffed incredulously as he saw two other people holding up a blanket so that another couple could apparently have sex shielded by the blanket and some rubble.

Jackson’s eyes followed Miller’s gaze.

“Those are some good friends,” Miller smirked, regarding the two holding the blanket.

“No one’s even paying them much attention,” Jackson observed steadily. 

Miller returned his gaze to Jackson and smiled. “I wouldn’t mind if we found our own wagon and went to it. In fact, I’d really like to. But….” He let his voice trail off.

“I feel the same way,” Jackson responded. Most of Wonkru had lost any decorum or squeamishness around sex after so many years living together in close quarters. Miller and Jackson were lucky to have their own space inside the medical supply closet. Most couples had simply used their room for sex, paying no heed to their roommates. Single people often pleasured themselves without reservation; Miller and Jackson had one roommate who was often particularly loud in that regard.

“But I need to figure out who our rescuers are and how much of a threat they pose,” Miller said, shifting his voice lower. 

“And I had better make sure everyone’s okay.” Jackson truly had meant ‘everyone’ but he’d especially meant Abby.

Miller looked around again and then back at Jackson. “You okay?” he asked.

Jackson hesitated for a beat before deciding to open up. He had learned over the years that opening up to Miller was almost always the best course. “I want to be happy. We’re free. Clarke and Bellamy and the others are alive. Abby gets to see her daughter again, and we’re standing in the sunlight.” He took a breath. “But Abby’s an addict, and I don’t know how she and Kane are going to get out of their mess. The hydrofarm is still dying. And something tells me you’re going into battle again soon. And I just feel numb.”

Miller didn’t hesitate before pulling Jackson into a hug. There was not much to say that hadn’t already been said during the past six years. The two men had long ago agreed to never pretend to be okay when they weren’t. They had agreed to share their emotional states and to talk, even when it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Those agreements had helped them weather the darkness. 

Miller squeezed him tighter and said softly, “Well, what did we talk about? We’re alive, we’re here. One minute at a time, one day at a time.” He paused. “Maybe now Abby will start to get better.”

Jackson slowly stepped out of the hug. “Thank you.” He nodded. “Well, we’d better get to our duty then. I am really glad that Bellamy made it. I know how much you always liked him.”

One member of the nearby couples made a loud noise signaling their fulfillment. Duty versus pleasure. Miller knew that duty had to come first, but he really wanted pleasure instead. He took one last wistful glance in the direction of one of the couples and then got on with his work.

***

Sunlight: Act 2

The fresh air, once the bunker had been open, had felt so liberating at first. This night though, it just felt like a cold knife pressing against Jackson’s skin. He walked from tent to tent, checking on his charges – the members of Wonkru who weren’t on the front line with Octavia either due to being too young, too old, or too sick/injured to fight. When he felt certain there was nothing more to be done, Jackson sat down next to Niylah by one of the fires. Monty and Harper sat not too far away, cuddled together around a different fire. Jackson glanced in their direction, wanting to go over there and say something, wanting to convey how sorry he was that Octavia had burned the hydrofarm, sorry that Miller and Bellamy and the others were on the front line right now. But the wind shifted slightly, and some of the smoke from the fire blew into Jackson’s mouth. He coughed.

“Are you okay?” Niylah asked softly. Her voice, Jackson felt, was always soothing. 

“My throat will be fine,” Jackson rasped after taking a swig of water from his almost-empty canteen. Another round of gunshots could be heard in the distance, and more static sounded over Monty and Harper’s radio. Several loud, devastating canon shots had fired. There was no need to say what was troubling Jackson. Snippets of Monty and Harper’s conversation could be overheard, and they caught the word ‘massacre’. The gunshots had been almost constant and overwhelming, and they weren’t from Wonkru’s weapons. There had been no word at all from Wonkru. 

Niylah reached for Jackson’s hand and squeezed it. He welcomed the warmth. 

“I’ve been lucky for the past six years,” Jackson mused, his gaze steady on the orange glow of the fire. “I guess my luck had to run out sooner or later.”

“There have to be survivors. They couldn’t have killed all of Wonkru.”

Jackson shook his head. “That may be, but what are the odds? We’ve gone through our share of good luck already. Nate and I were born on an Ark in space that had 2,200 people on it. Only a couple dozen of them were still alive as of a few days ago – and that was before the Eligius crew massacred Wonkru on the front line. The likelihood that Nate somehow survived …”

Jackson let his voice trail off. His body alternated between a stifling numbness and waves of painful anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He knew, from having lost his mother years ago, that the crushing sorrow would come later. It would hit once he knew for sure that Nate was gone and it would be unbearable.

“I liked what I saw of you two together,” Niylah said. “You always bolstered each other.” She smiled wistfully. “When one of you went through a weak period, the other was strong. Your timing was somehow uncanny. Maybe your timing will continue to be so.”

Niylah was right about the past six years. Miller had seemed okay at first, but a couple months after the bunker’s door had been sealed, his father’s death had finally sunk in and utterly walloped him. Jackson was the one who had steeled him, given him a reason to get out of bed, and helped him talk through the pain. He held him after Miller’s nightmares where he’d dreamt of his dad burning up in Praimfaya. Conversely, the dark year had nearly broken Jackson. The doctor had felt almost constant nausea – and had lost all desire for sex. Regardless, Miller had remained by his side, providing constant affection and love until Jackson felt human again. 

“Maybe not,” Jackson whispered. He forced a shrug. “I knew this day could come. I knew I was taking a risk the day I agreed to be his boyfriend, and a bigger risk the first time I told him I loved him.”

He turned to look at Niylah. “I’m sorry,” Jackson continued. “I haven’t asked you how you are doing.”

Niylah poked the fire with the stick in her free hand. “How can you lose what you never had? I’ve loved her for so many years, she cannot ever return my love, and I am at peace with that. I always have been. Don’t worry about me, Jackson.”

Jackson never knew what to say to Niylah’s situation. She had fallen in love with a woman who didn’t have romantic feelings for other women – and who was also been a ruthless leader with a closed-off heart on top of that. He understood the advantages of Niylah’s position though. It at least allowed her some protection against pain, protection that Jackson knew he lacked. Right now he envied her.

Another round of gunfire could be heard in the distance.

“If he is dead,” Jackson began again, “I’m not sure what I’ll do. Before Nathan, I found my life’s purpose in healing others. But after having a love like this, I don’t know if I can just go back to that being enough for me,” he said, his eyes wide. 

Niylah nodded. “You once shared with me some good advice that your mother gave you,” she said, hoping to guide him in another direction.

“Yeah. Nothing lasts forever, and be grateful for what you do have.” He paused. “Or did have.” Pangs of worry and agony still assaulted his insides.

“Come on,” Niylah began with a gentle smile. “Tell me something light-hearted. Or sweet. Or funny.”

Jackson forced a laugh and exhaled. “Ever since we got out of the bunker, we wanted to have sex outdoors.”

“Half of Wonkru found a way to do so!” Niylah interjected, with a smile. “I can only wonder what Clarke and the others thought when they saw so many couples being so brazen outside.”

“I know! Miller and I never did though. He had to leave for his scouting mission, and when he came back, it look him a while to get over what happened to Obika. Then Blodreina was poisoned. And I felt sick because I knew this war was going to happen sooner or later.” He paused. “All those years of one day being the same as the next, but then we landed back in the same whirlwind we’d been in before the bunker, and we couldn’t quite get our footing.”

“You must’ve gotten some of your footing. I saw you two kissing and hugging like usual, plenty of times. Including outside your tent a few nights ago. Didn’t you…..?” she let her voice trail off. 

“We started to,” Jackson said flatly. “And then we got interrupted.”

They had finally found a good setting. Wonkru’s march to Shallow Valley had begun, the group had pitched their tents and set up fires for the night. Miller was not on watch; he would be able to rest. Both men took sponge baths inside their tent, whispering to each other – even taking a moment to laugh together over something inconsequential -- as they bathed. Miller was finally feeling like himself again and no longer having nightmares about Obika. He had told Jackson he was feeling good, knowing that Wonkru had the numbers to beat the Eligius crew. Jackson’s nerves and stomach felt settled that night too. The fires outside kept the tents warm enough, and they had cozy blankets inside. They didn’t have any lube, of course; the aloe plants had died off years ago. They had been making do with oral pleasures only for a while now, and that was fine. That night Miller had insisted on massaging Jackson’s back, and that was to be prelude to their lovemaking. He had been kissing the back of Jackson’s neck and shoulders when they’d heard shouting. Someone needed a doctor. Both Jackson and Miller had groaned, and not with pleasure. As Miller had cursed quietly, Jackson pulled on his pants and shoes, and got to his duty.

“I’m sorry,” Niylah said. She knew that Miller probably was, indeed, dead now and she truly wished that he and Jackson had at least gotten that last time together.

This night passed at an excruciatingly slow pace. Jackson at some point tore himself away from staring into the fire and made his rounds, checking in on the rest of the noncombatants. At least, he silently told himself, he was too miserable to think much about the lack of food; his hunger pangs barely registered. At some point Niylah took hold of his arm and steered him towards her tent. “Just lay down for a bit,” she’d said. 

Jackson fell into a dreamless, restless sleep. In what felt like an instant later, morning had arrived and he woke to shouting. 

He recognized Monty and Harper’s voices first. “Do you hear it?” one of them yelled. The other yelled back, “Over there!” 

Jackson rubbed his eyes and scrambled out of the tent. It was a cloudy, grey morning. He blinked, and his heart froze. Survivors. Wonkru survivors! They were making their way towards the encampment. His heart now pounding almost painfully inside his chest, Jackson grabbed what medical supplies he could. He fleetingly noted Niylah, Monty and Harper by his side, as they ran towards the survivors.

Jackson knew he had one job and he had to stick to it now. He had to focus on providing medical care to those who needed it the most. He absolutely could not run from survivor to survivor seeking his beloved. That would be a violation of his duty as a healer, and he had vowed every day since Becca’s island – when he had defiled his sacred oath in the name of saving humanity – never to stray from it again. So he began to perform triage, barely making note of who his patients were. _ This one can’t be helped, put her aside. This one Niylah can take care of. These two are equally serious and equally treatable. Just start on the one who is closer. Do the most good. Make your mother proud, make Abby proud wherever she is, make Nathan proud wherever he is. Focus. _

Jackson had just begun setting his current patient up for a transfusion when some instinct told him to look up. A handful more survivors were running towards the tent. One of them carried someone over his shoulder. Jackson thought he spotted a red sash on the shoulder of the man doing the carrying. Jackson’s heart stopped. It couldn’t be.

“Miller, you’re hit!” he heard Harper exclaim.

Jackson rushed up to him as Miller set the injured solider down. Miller was alive. He was well enough to run and to carry someone. Something new coursed through Jackson’s veins. Was it a mixture of hope and relief? Tempered by caution though. He didn’t know how bad Miller’s injuries were, but he knew that his man was alive right now. Somehow, remarkably, Miller had beaten the odds again.

***

** Sunlight: Act 3**

The siren continued to blare, over and over, as Miller stood by the Eligius’s ramp. His breath was ragged. He wished the siren would shut up, as it wasn’t helping to keep him from utter panic.

The main wave of people – both Wonkru and Eligius – had already run onto the ship. Miller forced himself to take another breath. Jackson would not, of course, be with them. Injured people took longer to transport. Much longer.

He debated asking Clarke and Bellamy how much more time they had. Maybe it was better not to. His heart continued to pound, and the siren was ceaseless. He overheard Bellamy say that he wasn’t leaving without his people, and Miller knew that despite their differences, he and Bellamy were aligned on this. If Jackson didn’t make it, no way was Miller boarding the Eligius either. Miller knew he had his flaws, but he would be a loyal partner to the end.

Miller almost wished they were back inside the bunker. At least there he had known that if he could avoid breaking any rules and stay out of the pits, then they’d probably survive. What was that saying, Miller fleetingly asked himself? We prefer the devil we know over the devil we don’t know. 

His brain appreciated the distraction. And then he saw it – movement in the distance. Clarke looking excited. Someone carrying a stretcher. Miller’s heart leapt, and he himself nearly jumped into the air with joy.

But no. No. Jackson wasn’t there. It was Abby, and a handful of others. Others who were not Jackson. Must be Kane on the stretcher. Of course Miller wanted Abby and Kane to survive; they had been like an Aunt and Uncle to him and Jackson (even though they were traitors to Blodreina now). But Jackson wasn’t there. The sirens continued to wale and Miller’s head and heart pounded with agony. 

`One way or another, this will all be over in a few minutes,’ Miller said to himself, trying to grasp at a measure of comfort. He wasn’t sure now if he was just thinking the words or actually speaking them aloud, but they were helping him a bit. `Either Jackson gets here and we get on the ship, or he doesn’t make it – and neither do I. Should be over pretty quick once the bomb – or whatever it is – hits the ground. Shouldn’t be too painful. A few seconds of your body being ripped apart and then you die.’

And then suddenly, more noise and more figures off in the distance, approaching the ship. Within the instant, Miller tried to force his brain and heart to reign in their hopes, but it was useless. He squinted harder and he hoped fiercely. 

It was Jackson! This time Miller truly did leap into the air and cry out with happiness. He might have even done a fist pump - as ridiculous as it would have looked, he needed some way to express his relief and joy. He noted that Jackson held one end of a stretcher, Harper the other. Gaia lay on it. Indra and Miller caught each other’s eye and exchanged a brief look of happiness. He knew that there were enough injured people here that he likely wouldn’t even be able to see Jackson for a while, but that didn’t matter. Jackson had made it.

Miller bounded up the Eligius’s ramp just ahead of Jackson and the others. During his 24 years, he had cheated death so many times. And he had found – and kept - love. Clearly, luck was again with him today.

***

Miller’s skills as a thief had gotten him arrested on the Ark, made him a member of The 100, helped turn the tide in Mount Weather - and right now on board the Eligius, they had come in very handy. While Jackson had spent the last several hours tending to the wounds of Kane, Gaia, Murphy, and assorted others, Miller had used that time to unabashedly pick the lock of one of the 40 staterooms on board the Eligius and to procure something from med bay. 

And now Jackson finally had been granted a reprieve. Unbeknownst to them, Clarke, Bellamy and the others were currently on the bridge, discussing their next steps.

“I can’t believe this,” Jackson said, looking around the stateroom as Miller locked the door from the inside. He touched his hand to the bed. “So soft.”

“I thought the sheets looked clean enough,” Miller said, walking up beside his partner. He reached his hands to rub Jackson’s shoulders, reprising what they’d been doing days ago inside their tent when they had gotten interrupted. 

“I’d say they’re no less clean than any other surface we used in the bunker,” Jackson said, bemused. “And hey - I like the window.”

“I know.” Miller gazed in the window’s direction as he continued to massage Jackson’s shoulders. The doctor’s muscles were in knots. “See, we are going to get to have sex in sunlight. Not outdoors, but in plenty of sunlight.”

Jackson smiled. “You’re always the optimist.” And then, enjoying the work of Miller’s hands, he added, “A little lower.”

“You look good in sunlight too. You said that to me when we first got out of the bunker, and I never did return the complement,” Miller said gently.

“Yeah, but you laughed and said that love is blind!” Jackson smiled as he reminded his lover. He enjoyed the work of Miller’s hands for a few more moments and then approached the bed. “Come on. Are you ready to enjoy the hopefully- mostly- clean sheets?”

“I am. And I have something for us to use,” Miller said, with a twinkle in his eyes. “I stole something from med bay.”

“I thought I saw you rummaging around in there at one point. But I was too tired to ask.”

Miller took the bottle from his pocket and placed it in Jackson’s hand. Lube.

Jackson opened his mouth to protest – breaking into an empty stateroom was one thing, but stealing supplies from med bay was another. 

“Can we just say we’ve earned this one?” Miller asked, his eyebrows raised, an almost-pleading look on his face. “You worked yourself raw treating Kane, Gaia, Murphy, and everyone else. Can’t that count for something?”

Jackson was silent for a moment and tilted his head. “Well, I suppose as far as moral lapses go, this isn’t the worst.” He paused and asked quietly, “You’ll read your latest poems to me, while we….?”

“Of course, of course.” Miller had taken to writing love poetry for Jackson. His poetry was clunky and trite, and it had never improved much over the years. But Jackson loved every word of it, and often requested for Miller to recite it while they were in bed. Miller usually did so with aplomb.

Miller pulled Jackson into a kiss, almost giddy with excitement at the prospect of soon getting something he wanted so badly, after so long. Jackson eagerly returned the kiss.

** END OF CHAPTER**

_ Author’s note: Miller and Jackson really were sidelined in Season 5 after the great, early episode “The Red Queen”. I realize that the writers have so many characters to juggle, but I sure would’ve loved a moment – even three seconds’ worth – in the final episode where we see Miller’s relief when Jackson finally makes it onto the Eligius. I did take some liberties with that scene. In the show, we do not see Miller standing by the Eligius’s ramp waiting for Jackson. I assume he truly was there, just outside of the camera’s view._


	8. Indulgences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nate, I’m not going to pretend to be okay with this.”

**Act 1: Bath**

Water was rationed, like everything else, but somewhere along the way Cooper determined that they had enough for each person to be allotted one bath per year. Every twelve months you could forget about your daily sponge bath and instead cash in on your “bath ration”, schedule your time in the room with the copper tub, heat the water, and submerge your body in warm water. Very few other things inside the bunker could remotely be termed ‘indulgent’ and ‘luxurious’, in most of Wonkru’s minds this qualified.

True, one could question the cleanliness of the tub, but it didn’t appear any worse than Wonkru’s plates, silverware, or bed sheets – and the less said about the toilets, the better. 

People traded their annual bath ration, of course, and its value was high – only food and aloe went for more.

“Please don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty about not gifting this to Abby.”

Miller said the words to Jackson as their day approached. Jackson had already accrued his bath ration, and Miller would be granted his very soon.

Jackson opened his mouth and then closed it. Abby was not doing well. He owed so much to her, so much of who he had become. A lesser mentor would’ve resulted in a, well, lesser Dr. Jackson. And she had encouraged him to pursue Miller, all those years ago. A little treat like a bath could brighten her day, or even her week. Any ray of sunshine was welcome in the bunker, where one day just bled into the next and the main diversion for most of Wonkru was something that Jackson and Abby still found unspeakable and almost unendurable. The fighting pit. 

Jackson took a breath and decided to just be honest. “A little. I want to do something nice for her.” He reached a hand to Miller’s shoulder. “But I’d rather do something nice for us.”

Miller touched a hand to Jackson’s face. “Thank you. It’s going to be good.”

It was. The copper tub wasn’t made to accommodate two grown men, but it could be coerced into it. After last year, Miller and Jackson found it worked best if Miller got in first and then Jackson on top of him though it did result in Jackson’s bony knees protruding upwards from the water.

“Just relax back against me,” Miller coaxed. “Don’t worry about sitting upright. Rest your back for once.”

“Are you the doctor or am I?” Jackson laughed. He followed Miller’s instructions, easing backwards and letting Miller take most of his weight. 

Last year both had learned that they liked the water to be heated extra hot – almost unbearably so. It did result in keeping the tub warmer for longer.

“This does feel nice,” Miller said, tilting his head back a bit, and understanding why the bath ration was so valued. The hot water seemed to be relaxing his tight muscles and healing his wounds. He liked the sloshing sounds the water made any time either of them moved. He wiggled his toes around. 

“Even though you have a grown man sitting on top of you?” Jackson teased.

“I’m strong. And muscular. Remember?” Miller’s voice had taken on a seductive tone; Jackson often made references to appreciating Miller’s strength and physique when they were getting intimate with each other, so these words provided a prompt that both men had become conditioned to associate with sex. He kissed the back of Jackson’s neck.

“Stop it!” Jackson laughed. “I thought we decided to use this for relaxation and not sex. Unlike last year.”

“Yeah, when we got half the water on the floor. And discovered that a copper bathtub is actually not a great surface to have sex inside of,” Miller grumbled. 

Jackson laughed again. “At least we tried it. But yeah, let’s not have a repeat of last year.”

“Okay. Right. Non-sexy topics only, then. Hey, so do I remember right that during all your time on the ground, you never once swam in a lake or – you know – got submerged in water like this?”

“That’s right. My first-ever bath was right here inside the bunker.” He paused. “There were a few people who flung off their clothes and swam the second they first saw a lake, when they landed on the ground. I just always had something else that I needed to do. Then there were bathtubs at Becca’s place, but I couldn’t accept the idea of wasting that much water. And then after….” Jackson stopped abruptly. 

Miller waited a moment and then asked quietly, “What is it?”

Jackson shook his head.

“Remember, we agreed not to hide stuff from each other,” Miller prompted. 

Jackson tilted his head downwards. “It’s okay. It’s just that we’ve discussed this a hundred times before already.” He took a breath. “I was going to say that any guilt I felt over the idea of using all that water to run a bath on Becca’s island would’ve been nothing compared to the guilt I feel over what happened afterwards. Emori. And the man we called Baylis. But….let’s leave it at that. We don’t need to talk about it 101 times.” He smiled, though Miller couldn’t see his facial expressions. “And I know you think I’m awesome and that I do my best.”

“You do. You are,” Miller said firmly. 

**Act 2: Imagination**

“Nate, I’m not going to pretend to be okay with this.”

Miller was quiet. He looked down at his folded hands and silently debated how to respond. The two men had seesawed over the years, with one providing support when the other most needed it. Miller vowed to draw on the same reserves he had used during the dark year to bolster Jackson.

“We’ve been together for five years. We’ve survived the…the unthinkable.” Miller turned to look at his partner. “Jacks, you have to know that this is small compared to everything else.”

“Small?” Jackson repeated, with an incredulous laugh. 

The two men sat inside the room they had spent so much time inside of: med bay’s supply closet. As usual, they sat on the mattress with their backs against the wall. Abby and Kane didn’t use the room that much anymore so it usually belonged to the men without them having to ask in advance. The room – like the rest of the bunker – was nothing much to look at, but it was private. Miller and Jackson sat in the dark, with just the small nightlights near the floor on. 

Cooper had just shared the news that some people had seen coming. The aloe crop was dying off and not looking like it could rebound. She didn’t need to remind Wonkru that nothing could be worse than losing the soybean crop again, and at least their soybeans were still limping along. But aloe was treasured for many reasons, the prime one being its use as a sexual lubricant. 

Miller unfolded his hands and reached to hold one of Jackson’s. “I find the oral stuff just as intimate,” Miller offered.

“I don’t,” Jackson said. 

Once again, Miller had to resist wincing. Terse, brusque replies and sarcastic laughs were not Jackson’s usual mode of communication.

“That’s why,” Jackson continued, “I wanted to do more the first time we had sex. And the second time, back in Arkadia right before we left it for good.” The third time, too. It had taken place inside the bunker, soon after all of Arkadia had settled in, thinking they’d have the bunker to themselves. Personnel quarters had felt so much more spacious then. David Miller had stood guard outside one of the rooms so that his son and Jackson could have “private time” together; that’s the kind of father David Miller was. It had been his idea, in fact.

Miller was again quiet for a bit. “Well, look, it’s not like we have any other options. Other than to accept it,” he said softly. 

“You’re right about that,” Jackson admitted. “There are a few things in med bay that could work, but we can’t take them since we probably don’t want to end up in the pits. You know, the lube we used our very first time – it came from my med kit so it technically belonged to Arkadia, not to me. I could’ve been floated for that, but I honestly didn’t care.”

“Well, the world was five days away from burning up,” Miller smiled, “so no harm there. And you know,” he began, his voice taking on a quirky tone,”….we had to deal with the burning in our loins.”

This time Jackson’s laugh sounded happy, not bitter. “’Our loins’??” he echoed. “Okay, you’re a great poet, but are you writing romance novels now too?”

Both men laughed. Miller was glad to see that his attempt at humor – albeit clunky - had worked, at least for the moment. 

“But yeah,” Jackson said, sobering up far too quickly. “No other options. I didn’t tell you – I saw a patient the other day. I won’t say who to protect his privacy. He and his man decided to have sex using just spit and precum. The abrasions he had…” Jackson shook his head.

“I know who you mean,” Miller replied. With just about 875 people left in Wonkru, it wasn’t hard to deduce which of the other male/male couples would have done this. “His partner is a brute. I could say other things about him, but I just hope he gets what he deserves someday.”

“I’m glad I don’t have a partner like that.”

Miller nearly exhaled. Jackson definitely sounded more like himself with that last statement, and Jackson then brought their joined hands to his mouth. He kissed Miller’s hand. His hand was calloused and dry, crying out for moisturizer as was nearly every part of his body. 

“Look,” Miller began again after a bit, “we can live without it. It’s not ideal. But we love each other. Sex is just one part of our bond. We like the oral stuff. I like it just as much as plain old fucking, though I get that you don’t. And maybe Cooper’s wrong; maybe there’s a way to bring the aloe crop back, like she did with the soybean crop. Or maybe someday we’ll get out of here.”

“She’s not wrong about this kind of thing,” Jackson countered. “And let’s be honest – it’s been five years and no one’s thought of a way out of here. Even if we could get out, all the soil would’ve died off in Praimfaya too.”

“There are a lot of other ways to be intimate,” Miller said evenly. He silently praised himself for keeping his composure. He wasn’t exactly happy about the aloe crop dying off either. The idea of never having intercourse again was difficult for him to accept. Horrible, in a way. But Miller had known that Jackson would take it worse and that he was going to need to “carry” Jackson on this one, much as Jackson had done for him when he had been grieving his father.

“And,” Miller continued, “we’re already used to going for weeks on end without any aloe. Yeah, it was easier before because we knew we’d eventually get more. But….we also got creative too, right?” Miller asked, his tone suggestive.

“Yeah,” Jackson said, and Miller could see a hint of a smile on his lover’s face. “You do do a good job of talking dirty. Maybe all those years of writing poetry have made you able to, um, set a scene.”

“The imagination is a wonderful thing. So we’ll just keep on using it.”

“Okay,” Jackson said. 

A few days later, Niylah tapped Jackson’s arm after the second meal of the day. “Got a minute before you go to med bay?” she asked. “I have a gift for both of you. Come with me.”

Niylah led Jackson and Miller to her quarters. One of her bunkmates napped, but the room was empty other than him. Losing hundreds of people had certainly thinned out Wonkru. Niylah rummaged around inside her cart and pulled out a blue cloth which appeared to serve as wrapping paper for a hidden gift.

Miller first noted the cloth. Although faded, the cloth’s blue color provided a respite from the browns, greys, and other muted shades that ruled the bunker. It made him think of the sky, and believe that – against all logic - someday they would see it again.

Niylah handed it to Jackson as he happened to be standing closer to her. He gently unwrapped the cloth to find that it contained one stalk of aloe.

“It’s still fairly fresh,” Niylah said. “Should be good for another day or two. Looks like a juicy one too.”

“Are – are you sure?” Jackson asked, his eyes wider than usual. “I know a couple who traded both of their bath rations for one stalk. You could get so much for this.”

“It’s yours,” Niylah said, putting a hand on his arm. “You do so much for Wonkru. There’s not a person here who you haven’t healed at one time or another.” It wasn’t the first time that a grateful patient had given Jackson a gift, but it still made Jackson’s heart throb.

There were no words to be said, so Jackson simply pulled Niylah into a hug and held her for a while. Miller then wrapped his arms around both of them.

“By the way,” Niylah began, once she had stepped out of the hug, “if you’re inspired right now, you’re welcome to use this room. He sleeps like the dead,” she gestured at her roommate. “And my other roommates keep to their schedules like clockwork. No one’s coming in here for a while. But…I’ll stand outside the door if you want just to make sure.”

Miller and Jackson exchanged a look. “No one’s screaming for either of us right now,” Miller said. “And it might be good to have a different setting than usual.” 

Jackson nodded. He then smiled, something that was rare nowadays. “And even if someone does start to scream for us, they won’t know to look for us here…” he let his voice trail off. 

“Have at it,” Niylah said, leaving it at that as she exited the room.

**Act 3: Sanctuary **

It was settled. Because Clarke had saved Delilah, the leader Russell had granted Clarke and her people permission to stay on Sanctum for the time being. As Jackson caressed the back of Miller’s head, he couldn’t stop smiling. 

Jackson didn’t pay much attention during the discussions of where the crew would spend the night. Clarke and Bellamy wanted some of their people guarding the ship. Somehow it shook out that Miller and Jackson would be able to sleep in one of the cabins loaned to them by the people on Sanctum, and that tomorrow morning they would head over for their turn on guard duty.

As he walked down a short pathway leading to their guest quarters, Jackson held Miller’s hand. It was almost too much, Sanctum’s beauty. Its people were what Jackson found most pleasing to look at; all of them were healthy, unscarred, uninjured, unbandaged, and usually smiling. They had clear skin and bright eyes. They carried themselves well and wore rich fabrics, but just the fact that they were healthy made Jackson thrilled. True, he loved to be needed, but right now he loved more the idea of a population free of gaping wounds. Someday he would speak to their doctors; hopefully someday he would join them, but for now Jackson was focused on just enjoying what he saw.

And the surroundings! No wonder their populace looked so good. Sweet, fresh air. Flowers in an array of colors. Fields bursting with plants. Ponds adorned with water lilies. Birds chirping and children laughing. Cozy dwellings built with love and care. The place was even more beautiful than earth had been before Praimfaya. Just the sound and the feel of gravel crunching under his shoes as Jackson walked felt good.

Plus there was the sensation of a full belly. Their hosts had been generous with feeding them, and the food had been indescribably flavorful and satisfying. Of course Jackson would have loved anything that didn’t consist of soybeans and vegetable broth. (Jackson didn’t think of the dark year and what they had eaten then. Part of his brain truly had erased those files in order to keep himself functional. The other part of his brain sincerely believed it had been only a bad dream). 

Their relationships with the rest of the crew right now were another thing to celebrate. Wonkru might be no more, but he and Miller had a crew again. Miller and Bellamy had reconciled, a fact Jackson was grateful for. Even better, they had eaten their meal with Emori and she had brought It up. “It” was, of course, the event from six years ago that still haunted Jackson. (“Forget about it,” Emori had said. “I have.” Jackson had opened his mouth to protest, but Emori cut him off. “I forgive you. I get why you did it. So can we please shut up and move on so I don’t have to keep looking at that expression on your face?”) Jackson had nearly cried with happiness.

No, not everything was perfect. Jackson knew that Miller still felt guilt over some of the things he had done; the toxin had happened; Miller and the others had serious doubts about their hosts; likely there was nothing that they could do for Kane; Monty and Harper were gone; earth was beyond redemption; Octavia –Blodreina – was missing and….well, had he wanted to, Jackson could’ve written an essay on every awful thing he’d lived through. But he didn’t want to. He needed serenity and beauty now, and he appeared to have it. 

“You gonna come in now or what?” Miller asked, holding open the door to their assigned cabin, a bemused smile on his face.

“Just indulging in the view for a bit more,” Jackson smiled. He stepped closer to Miller and put an arm around him as he took one more look at the pink and gold shades in the sky and just breathed in the fresh air. He opened his mouth to say more. He wanted to again express his happiness that Miller was alive – the final battle with Diyoza’s people had nearly rendered Jackson a widower, he knew. But Jackson glanced at his partner and knew he felt the same way; the words just weren’t needed.

“We get all this to ourselves,” Miller said, a few moments later once they had stepped inside their assigned cabin, “for eight entire hours until we gotta go guard the ship.”

The room was small but cozy. It didn’t contain much more than a bed, a fireplace, a few shelves, a table and chairs, and its own tiny bathroom. Like everywhere else on Sanctum, the colors inside the cabin were enticing and the room contained several warm touches. A few pieces of art hung on the walls, the bedspread looked plush, the floor consisted of tiled mosaics in a warm pattern. The men could walk from end of it to the other in just a few steps, but the small space contained all they needed now. Jackson set his bag down next to the bed and opened a window so they could enjoy more fresh air.

“I still don’t believe it,” Miller said, opening up the tap and putting his hand underneath it. “Running water. Okay, okay, I know that look! I will stop wasting water!”

Jackson laughed. “You know me too well. How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine. You patched it up good as new, like you always do.” Miller squatted in front of the fireplace and, at Jackson’s nod, got to work on building the fire. If they wanted to keep that window open all night, they would need the fireplace on. 

“Now I really am dreaming,” Jackson murmured as he sat on the bed. “Our own space. A really soft bed. And we’re both well and healthy.” He ran his fingers along the bedspread, and it was as soft and fluffy as he’d hoped. Almost all of the fabric he’d touched during his whole life – and especially the past few years – had been frayed and ragged. 

“Eight hours alone until we have to guard the damn ship,” Miller repeated, trying to let their good fortune sink in. 

“Right,” Jackson smiled. “Is this cabin similar to what you and Bryan used to dream about?” 

Bryan was such a distant memory for both of them that there was no pain in matter-of-factly bringing up his name. Miller usually couldn’t even remember too well what Bryan had looked like. The main aspect that stuck inside Miller’s brain was that Bryan had been close to his own height, in contrast with Jackson who was a bit taller. Miller always had to reach up a bit to kiss his man now.

“Well, this isn’t on a lake and there are no chickens,” Jackson continued. “But it’s peaceful.”

“It’s along the same lines,” Miller said, concentrating on bringing the fireplace to life. It gradually went from a crackle to a gentle roar. He poked it a couple times and then turned to look at Jackson. “If we do stay here, these people will be lucky to have you as a doctor.” He took a breath. “I don’t know what I would do here, though. In my life, I’ve been a thief and a guard and a military leader. But I’m not sure what I could do – or want to do – here.”

Jackson thought for a moment before replying. “You’re good at solving problems. You find ways in or ways around that others don’t find, and you’re good at sticking with something.” His eyes lit up. “A detective! I don’t know how much crime they have here, but you’d be a good detective.”

“Detective,” Miller repeated, enjoying the warmth from the fireplace and his partner’s idea. Jackson always acknowledged that Miller had brains in addition to brawn, and Miller appreciated that. “I like that.” He then added, “We don’t know what the future will bring or how long we can stay here, but I definitely plan to enjoy tonight.”

Jackson smiled mischievously and rose from the bed. He knelt next to Miller by the fireplace. “I have something to help us enjoy tonight,” he said, snuggling against his lover.

“Okay, that’s your sexy tone. That’s your ‘or I can keep you company’ tone,” Miller said, his voice somewhere between amused and excited. Jackson was already reaching under Miller’s shirt to touch his bare skin.

“I asked Blythe Ann if I could have some of her olive oil,” Jackson said simply. “She asked what I needed it for, and I told her dry skin. We went back and forth, and she offered me lotions instead, but I didn’t know what perfumes or irritants they might have. So we settled on pure olive oil. It’s what the ancient Greeks used. She gave us a lot of it too.”

“I knew there was another reason why you were in such a good mood! I knew it!” Miller was slightly bemused but mostly delighted. Jackson’s hands on his skin were heating him up, as was the knowledge that they’d be able to fully enjoy each other tonight.

Not long afterwards, Jackson was indulging in pleasures that he could only have dreamed about recently. As the fireplace blazed, he and Miller were naked together under the soft, clean sheets. Miller was doing everything Jackson liked. There was such a delight, Jackson knew, in the familiar. Miller knew just how to kiss him, he knew to kiss and suck on Jackson’s nipples, he knew no matter how excited they were to take it slowly and let the sensations build. Miller also knew to start out romantic, reciting phrases from the poems he’d written over the years -- and he intuited when to switch to dirty talk. In the midst of two chaotic lives, familiarity was pleasure. 

Miller brought his lips back up to Jackson’s after completing what he mentally referred to as his “sweep” of Jackson, kissing and licking most of his body. “Okay, I’m nice and hard,” Miller whispered, giving himself a few firm strokes. “Are we sucking each other or going right to the fucking?”

Jackson didn’t answer; he instead turned over onto his belly. He grabbed one pillow and placed it under his midsection. He was hard too, and eager to take his lover inside of him.

“Oh, this position,” Miller murmured as he reached for the jar of oil and began to apply it to them both. He moved his fingers slowly and thoroughly. “I can get in really deep that way. I might get a little wild towards the end.”

“Stop talking and give me that dick,” Jackson ordered.

Jackson relaxed and enjoyed the sensations. He loved having the man he adored inside of him, the feeling of fullness, Miller’s movements in and out. He loved the feeling of connection and of being the conduit to his lover’s climax. He even loved when Miller seemed to lose all control and get lost in his own pleasure.

Not long afterwards, the men were cuddled together, their bodies damp with sweat, as the fire began to die down - but neither wanted to leave the bed to stoke it. 

“I think this might be the happiest day of my life,” Jackson said softly. “Right up there with the first time you told me you loved me – well, despite all the bad stuff that happened that day. And right up there with the first day you wrote me a poem.”

Miller wanted to make a joking comment about not being able to believe the traction he’d gotten over the years from his amateurish lines of poetry. He instead said, “Me too. Though uh….”

“What?” Jackson asked, mildly alarmed at Miller’s sudden worried tone.

“The sheets are stained real bad. We gotta hope they have better clothes-washers than we had in the bunker or on Arkadia, because this oil stuff doesn’t look like it’s gonna come out anytime soon. Man, I hope they don’t kick us out for this.”

**END OF CHAPTER**


	9. Competition

Miller strode down the crowded corridors, furious and fuming. Any fellow members of Wonkru who passed him either moved quickly out of his way or bravely tried to not look intimidated despite the rage he emitted. 

`I can take him in a fight,’ Miller told himself as he walked. `Yeah he’s bigger than me and he’s more built. But I’m younger and faster -- and more strategic when we train. He just hits without thinking, figures his brute strength will do it for him. It won’t.’

Miller’s blood rushed and heart pounded with righteous anger. For just a second, he passed a man in the corridor who reminded him of his father, and another wave of anger walloped Miller. Miller’s dad had always told him to only use violence as a last resort. `Well, my dad’s dead,’ Miller said to himself. 

“Miller!” 

Indra’s voice rang out behind him. There were few people who could stop his rampage, but Indra was like Blodreina. Both women absolutely must be obeyed. 

Miller stopped and turned. “Yes, Indra?” he asked, straining to keep his voice steady.

“I need you in the armory. Time for you to resume training me on the guns.”

“But we – “ Miller bit his tongue. They’d been inside the bunker for six months, and Indra had been through several lessons on guns. She’d already mastered them. “Now, Indra?” he asked, keeping his tone respectful.

“Now.”

An hour later, Indra asked Miller, “Do you want to talk about it?”

His reply was terse, but again he was careful to avoid disrespect. “No. Thank you, but no.”

***

It had begun just days ago. Jackson had been inside the room where he spent most of his waking hours: med bay. The tall grounder named Teiku – formerly of Podakru clan – approached Jackson and asked him to check on his injury.

“This is a pleasant change,” Jackson said with a smile as he gently reached for Teiku’s wounded arm. “Most people don’t want to come in for their check-ups and I have to chase them down.”

As Jackson examined the injury and changed the bandage, Teiku made it clear that his visit to med bay was just a pretext. “Handsome Skaikru doctor,” Teiku murmured. “You take such good care of us.” With that, Teiku gently brushed a few fingers against Jackson’s cheek.

Jackson stepped back and stammered, “Th– there is no more Skaikru. We are all Wonkru,” he managed. His eyes were wide, and he scanned med bay to determine if anyone had been observing them. Teiku’s fingers had been surprisingly soft.

“Yes, that is true. But I like that you are different.” Teiku’s voice was smooth. He gazed into Jackson’s eyes. “Handsome doctor from the sky, and you are so much better than any healer I’ve ever met before. And so much more beautiful.”

Teiku himself was, by most objective standards, good-looking. Tall and muscular, skin a few shades darker than Jackson’s, symmetrical features despite a few scars. Intense, bright eyes. 

Teiku again stepped closer to Jackson, forcing the doctor to take another step backwards. Jackson felt a sick ache in his stomach, and he suspected his face was flushed. He knew he needed to be clear and assertive.

“Teiku,” Jackson began, compelling his voice to be firm - and a bit deeper than usual. “Miller and I are a couple. I’m glad you think I’m a good healer, but don’t do anything like telling me that I’m handsome or – or touching my face again.” He held his hands out in front of him, in the ‘stop’ position. 

Abby entered med bay at that point. Both men turned towards her, Jackson thrilled to have a distraction. He went right up to Abby with a hastily-manufactured question, and Teiku left the room without another word.

That was, Jackson hoped, to be the last of it. He felt no compelling reason to tell Miller of the happening. `The incident is over, no need to upset Miller,’ Jackson told himself. Nathan’s moods had been swinging lately. Jackson was not surprised by that; Miller had loved his father and hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye. He would have a lot to work out, and Jackson was determined to show his lover, every day, patience and support. Miller didn’t need to hear about this unpleasant interaction.

However, two days later, Teiku reappeared in med bay. Jackson was with a patient, but saw Teiku sit down and wait quietly. Jackson forced himself to take a breath, hating the way his heart raced with anxiety. He did the best he could to focus on his patient and spend even more time with her than he’d intended to. Teiku continued to wait, and Jackson continued to take his time, even stopping to read a few reports. Eventually, however, Jackson found the waiting to be worse, so he strode up to Teiku.

“Are you injured again?” he asked without preamble, avoiding looking directly at Teiku.

“No. I just came by with a gift for you.” Teiku unceremoniously thrust something into Jackson’s hands, and then turned and left before Jackson could form more words.

Jackson, somewhat stunned, watched Teiku leave. He then looked down at the object Teiku had placed in his hands. A stalk of aloe.

***

“Aloe?? The thing that absolutely no one uses for cuts and bruises, and everyone uses for sex??” Miller asked incredulously. 

They were inside med bay’s supply closet, Jackson having told Miller everything. Miller tried to pace the small room, but that wasn’t easy given its stocked shelves, and the bulky mattress propped up on its side. 

“When I get my hands on that bastard! I’m gonna – “

Miller stopped abruptly. Jackson stood backed against the wall, his expressive eyes somewhere between horror and sadness.

And Miller realized that his own fists were clenched, his face almost on fire, his pulse furious. 

“I’m sorry,” Miller said, unclenching his fists. He looked down at his boots and then back up at Jackson. “I – uh, you know I’m not mad at you, right? I’m mad at him because he’s been totally out of line.”

Jackson’s shoulders relaxed and he took a step closer to Miller, placing his hands on Miller’s chest. “I know. And I agree that he’s totally out of line. He didn’t even give me a chance to refuse the gift,” Jackson added, shaking his head. “So anyway, I just wanted to tell you everything.”

Miller felt satisfied that Jackson was no longer afraid, which should have calmed and mollified him. It did slightly, but he still was outraged at Teiku.

“Jackson,” Miller began. “I gotta go. I’m so angry at this man that I just need to…move around. I can’t stand here anymore, I just need to – move. Maybe head to the arena and do some training.”

Jackson nodded. He understood that physical activity could be a good outlet for anger and stress. Standing inside a closet right now was not helping Miller. So Jackson pulled him into a quick kiss and let him go.

***

Indra’s redirection had helped. By the time Indra reached him, Miller had walked half the length of the bunker. Indra’s insistence on gun training had forced Miller to slow down and focus, especially since he didn’t have the option of disobeying her.

“You need to find a way to work through whatever this,” Indra intoned steadily, when their lesson was over. “You’re burning up with anger but you live in a place where anyone who breaks the law gets thrown into the arena.” She paused. “Think about that.” 

“I will,” Miller promised. He didn’t need to add the fact that he had committed a crime when he was 17, and it had landed him in the Sky Box and then gotten him banished. The luxury of outbursts or untamed anger was something he’d never had. “I’ll work my problem out.”

***

Miller had to wait, however, before being able to speak with Jackson again. When Miller arrived at med bay, Jackson was performing a procedure and thus beyond interruption. The procedure meant that Jackson would miss the second meal of the day, so Miller went to the mess hall, ate in silence, and then took Jackson’s meal to him. He waited patiently as Jackson spoke with Abby, and after not long Jackson was finally free - so they sat down together in a corner of med bay. Miller handed Jackson his tin plate and fork. 

“How are you?” Jackson asked, before taking a bite of his food.

“Jackson, how did you come to be a….pacifist?” Miller asked, not answering his partner’s question. “That’s what you are, right?”

Jackson took a bite of his food, chewed it thoughtfully, and then answered. “It used to be principle but now it’s practicality. I never wanted to pick up a gun or inflict pain on someone. Simple as that. And, well, the practical side is that I don’t think I’d be much of a good fighter now even if I were trained.” 

Jackson looked down for a second. “I was worried that you wouldn’t be interested in me. When we first got together, I mean. I knew your last boyfriend had been a guard…I didn’t know if you’d be interested in a man who wasn’t good at that sort of thing. There are plenty of people here who’d view me as weak.” He paused and met Miller’s gaze. “The day you told me you loved me **because** I was a healer….that – that took my breath away.”

Miller stepped closer to Jackson and touched his forehead to Jackson’s. The moment now felt almost too special for a kiss or even for more words. Miller understood how satisfying it felt to be loved just for who you are. He thought back to how his father had loved him despite his mistakes on the Ark, and for a second he realized that the sadness over his father’s passing did not hurt as much as it had been lately.

After a few moments, Jackson added, “I have been meaning to ask you to train me in self-defense someday. It’s something I always meant to learn, but – you know – I ‘ve never made the time to learn anything other than medicine.”

Miller felt a relaxing or even a swelling inside. He had something to teach Jackson! “I would love to,” he said, realizing he had the first smile on his face since hearing about the Teiku situation. “There are some techniques I can teach you. You have some nice muscles that we can develop even more,” he added, placing a hand on Jackson’s upper arm.

Jackson nodded and then took another bite of his food, enjoying seeing Miller happy. He took a quick glance around the room, ensuring no one was within earshot. “You know I don’t have the slightest interest in him, right?” he asked. “I want you, not him.” There was no need to say whom he referred to.

Miller looked down at his hands. “**Why** do you want me, though? Jackson, I’m a mess. I’m grumpy sometimes, some days I don’t feel like talking—“

“You have every right to be a mess,” Jackson said simply. “Your father loved you, and you lost him. Not to mention the fact that we live in a depressing underground bunker, where we might very well spend the rest of our lives. You can be as sad or as angry as you want, for as long as you want. I’m still here for you.” He reached to put a hand on Miller’s shoulder.

“Everyone’s lost someone,” Miller said, his voice low. He reached to touch Jackson’s hand which rested on his shoulder. It was something the pair would continue to do year after year – enjoy every bit of physical contact. “Including you. Stupid of me to carry on about it.”

“That’s not how grieving works,” Jackson said. “I hope you don’t feel guilty for grieving him. And, if you want, I will answer your question and tell you why I like being your partner. There are so many reasons.”

Miller smiled, and then turned his head around. Two people entered med bay, and one of them assisting the other. “I would like to hear it, but I have this sinking feeling that you’re not going to even be able to finish half of your food before someone calls your name.”

“Let’s talk more later then, okay? We’ll talk about what to do about this man Teiku. How about as soon as I’m done here? If we-“

“Jackson!” Abby called. It was clear that “break time” was over.

“I’ll hold onto this for you,” Miller said, taking Jackson’s plate.

***

Later, the two men sat together in the mess hall to discuss options. Both meal times of the day were over, but the mess hall was a popular place to congregate. With dozens of conversations taking place simultaneously, the room somehow provided a measure of privacy.

“Okay, so I want to resolve this without violence,” Miller said. “I’m still angry as hell but I’m pretty sure that beating up Teiku will land me in the arena.”

“It will,” Jackson said. “I read through the rules that Kane and the others posted. Same as on the Ark – no violence unless you’re training, or you’re defending yourself.”

“And violence isn’t the best way to solve problems anyway.”

Jackson smiled at Miller’s assertion. Miller, though, felt that the whole concept twisted his brain a bit. He had been a member of the guard, as his father had been. They sometimes used violence to keep the peace. They had used violence to fight grounders and Mountain Men. Jackson believed in never using violence except as defense. Well, Miller supposed, the teacher of the Ethics class on the Ark had ascertained that this subject matter was not simple.

“Do you have any ideas?” Jackson asked.

“I thought of some. Maybe we get Indra to run interference. Everyone listens to her, and she could shut him down fast. Or maybe we find another guy for Teiku, someone who wants him. Get his mind off of you.” Miller took a breath. “But I don’t like either of those. I don’t want to have to go to someone else for help – feels like a cop-out. And I’m not the damn village matchmaker either!”

Jackson couldn’t help but to laugh at that last remark. He sobered up and said, “I think you’re right on both fronts. Well, we were just talking about breaking the law. Isn’t Teiku breaking the law if he continues to….what’s the wording?....express unwanted sexual attention towards me? Since I told him no.”

“Right!” Miller nodded. “Paying unwanted sexual attention to someone is a crime. The grounders view it the same way as we did on the Ark.”

The two discussed it more and came up with a plan. And just a moment later, Miller looked to his left and saw Teiku settling down at a nearby table with a few other people, his fellow former members of Podakru. Teiku was looking at Jackson. 

Jackson and Miller stood up and approached the table. They politely asked to speak to Teiku in private. After quick, silent consideration, Teiku’s people left the table to give them some space.

Teiku continued to gaze at Jackson, as Jackson took a seat and began. “Teiku, you can’t give me any more gifts or flirt with me or touch my face anymore,” the doctor stated. “Miller is my partner.” Jackson put his hand over Miller’s on the table. 

“And also,” Miller said, “we’re worried about you. It’s against the law to pay unwanted sexual attention to someone. You don’t want to end up in the fighting pits.”

“Hey, wait,” Teiku began, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think I….” and then Teiku seemed to lose his train of thought. He was quiet for a few uncomfortable moments. 

Miller jumped in when the moments continued to inch by. “I think there has to be a man here who would be interested in you. One who doesn’t already have a man.”

Miller said the words on impulse to end the awkward silence, and then silently chastised himself. ‘Maybe I do want to play matchmaker after all.’

“Yeah,” Teiku said, frowning. “I will find one.”

“Good!” Jackson said, sitting back slightly. “So we all agree. We don’t want you to end up in the fighting pits, Teiku. So you won’t pay any more sexual attention to me. Just come by med bay tomorrow so I can return your gift to you. If I’m not there, Niylah knows where it is.”

“Fine,” Teiku scowled. He stood up, allowing the chair to screech loudly, and walked towards his friends.

Miller and Jackson then rose and left the mess hall, hand in hand. “I hope this is the end of this,” Jackson said quietly. 

“Me too,” Miller said as they walked down the corridor in the direction of their room. “Hey, remember back in med bay you promised me a list of reasons you like me?” he asked, with a smile.

“Love,” Jackson corrected. “I love you. And yes, I can give you that list anytime. Well, for one thing I love that you found a way out of this without a fight.”

“Yeah, but he could’ve gone crazy on us and started trying to beat us up or done something else to stir stuff up. Which makes me think….we just might want to watch our backs.”

Jackson groaned. “You think he might try to…take revenge?” he asked, wearily. “Do something sneaky or dangerous?”

Miller thought for a few moments. As he continued to hold his partner’s hand, he realized that one or both of their hands was now slightly damp. “I don’t know. I’m gonna talk to Niylah. She seems to know everyone,” he decided. “We need to learn what we can about this guy to see how mentally stable he is and how likely he is to try something.”

Jackson nodded. “That makes sense. See, Nate, you’re very strategic and smart. I’m adding that to my list.”

In the end, Teiku stayed away from Jackson and Miller but ended up in the pits a few months later over another matter. He survived that round, but broke the law again soon after that and did not live through his second stint in the arena. By the time the bunker was liberated five years later, Teiku was just a foggy memory for Miller and Jackson.

**END OF CHAPTER **

**Author’s Notes:**

Another chapter taking place inside the bunker?? I asked myself that when I first got inspiration for this chapter, and yet the setting always feels right for a Mackson fic because it’s where Miller and Jackson have spent the vast majority of their time as a couple. They were together for only a few days pre-bunker. Post-bunker season 5 spans only weeks (some of which Miller and Jackson spent apart from each other due to their different jobs), and season 6 takes place over even less time. 

But also, I think there’s another reason why I like to write of their time in the bunker. The bunker tells you all you need to know about their relationship. If two souls can come together in such a bleak - and at times brutal – setting and stay together for years, their love is solid. By the time the bunker was opened, Miller and Jackson’s initial infatuation had to have long since burned off, and what remains is a deep love and connection. 

_ As always, I greatly appreciate any feedback and comments!_


	10. Abby

**Author’s Note: ** Taking a different approach with this chapter. It takes place during Season 6. And whether you love her or hate her, Abby was a key figure in Jackson’s life.

**Act 1: Criminal**

He came to me right after Abby called him a war criminal. I want to say “I’d never seen him so upset” but that’s not true, I don’t think I can talk about the Dark Year yet but obviously that was worse. But he was upset, and me I kinda wanted to punch someone. Abby was his mentor, pretty much his idol, and almost a mother since he’d lost his own so young. What the hell was she thinking calling him a war criminal?

What makes it worse is that he always did everything she said. He always followed her orders, never questioned her. He once told me how many other people Abby had started training on the Ark and how many washed out. Some found out they weren’t meant to be doctors, but I know that some didn’t want to live under Abby’s thumb and couldn’t meet her 100,000 different standards. He stood by her side longer than anyone and was one of the only ones she was ever satisfied with. He’s modest, don’t get me wrong, I had to pry all this out of him. But we talked a lot, always. In the bunker we didn’t have much more than stories and conversation and sex.

And oh yeah, the thing that she called him a war criminal over – that was her idea. She was the one who said we needed to do it in the first place.

He says to me not to hold it against Abby, that she’s been through a lot, deep down she knows Kane’s not gonna make it, she’s a recovering addict, she’s constantly worried sick about Clarke, and on and on. Because our lives have been just so easy in comparison. Sorry. No, I get it, I mean if he was in the state Kane’s in, I’d probably be freaking out and saying bad things and upsetting people. So there, I did it, I had some empathy for Abby. He’ll give me points for that.

He also said that Abby is “projecting”, she feels bad about what happened and so she’s just kind of putting the blame on others and idolizing Kane because he was against it. Fine, Abby. But don’t drag my man down, don’t you hurt him.

I sure want to say all that to her but I can’t. It would upset him and it wouldn’t change her. It would just make everything worse. So I do what I did on the Ark and in the bunker, I bite my tongue. And mostly I do what I want to do which is hold him in my arms and try to console him and tell him that Abby loves and respects him and she’s just hurting now and she didn’t mean it. 

Well something good came out of this, when I’m not thinking about how mad at Abby I am. I really like holding him and consoling him and making him feel better. Makes me feel useful and needed. I don’t need an excuse to put my arms around him but it’s just nice to do that and stroke his hair and tell him how much I love him. And hear him say it back and that my opinion matters to him more than anyone else’s.

**Act 2: Death**

It’s something we think about all the time, how many people were on the Ark when we were born and how few of them are still alive today. Just a handful. I’m a soldier, he’s a doctor, we’ve seen people die on battlefields, in med bay, in the arena, on the Ark, on the ground, in Arkadia, in the bunker, on Becca’s island, in Polis, in Mount Weather, on Sanctum, and everywhere else we’ve ever set foot. Sometimes we don’t see it happen and don’t get to say goodbye like with my dad or with Monty and Harper. Sometimes they go fast, sometimes slowly. Sometimes you’re doing something else and you wonder what happened to so-and-so and try to remember how and when they died but there’s been so many that you get them confused. (Like once I was convinced that Jasper went to the ring with the others and died up there, instead of by suicide. Once I had a memory of my ex Bryan dying in the arena but Jackson correctly reminded me that Bryan never even made it to the bunker). Sometimes you tally up all the times that you yourself almost died. There’s been so much of it, death, and yet it fills you up and terrifies you to the bone no matter how many times you face it.

So both Kane and Abby are gone now. Kane, we knew that was coming, we knew there was no way he was surviving what that Vinson guy did. I liked Kane a lot. Yeah, he and Jaha made the decision to throw my dad out and a small part of me will always hate him for that – but I see why he did it and he also made the decision to keep me, and I kind of loved him for that. He wasn’t loyal to Blodreina and I was, till the very end, so that was weird for us too. But that’s okay, I’m used to relationships with other people being complicated. So even though we saw it coming, Kane’s death sucks and he never got to see the promised land that he wanted so badly for his people. At least Indra was there with him when it happened, I’m glad for that. His fight is over.

But then we lost Abby just days later. I got one thing to be thankful for and that’s the fact that she apologized to him before she died. They made up. Thank you, thank you, every single lucky star because it would’ve been a 100 times worse if they hadn’t. “Closure”, he told me, they got some closure. He understands fully that she cared about him and that she knew that he is a good person.

He’s always thinking of other people, said he’s way more sad for Clarke than he is for himself.

But we sat down and I made sure he talked a lot because there’s no way this isn’t hurting him. I said to him that this has to be one of the worst things he’s experienced, and he said yes it is. But he also said – and this made my heart swell even though we’ve been together for years – that if the Primes had taken him into space and if he’d spent 20 years separated from me that would’ve been far, far worse than anything ever. He said he’s sad about Abby but he’s also thrilled and elated that we’re together, and I was thrilled and elated that he felt exactly the way I did. Like I can’t be too sad about anything because he and I were almost separated, we were facing spending the rest of our lives apart, I practically bit Octavia’s head off over it, but now we’re together, thank god, together again. 

I told him how much he helped me stay sane after my dad died, and that I wanted to be that support to him now, and he appreciated it a lot. It’s good that I know what to expect, my emotions were all over the place after I lost my dad though I tried not to show it. So I know I can expect that from him now and help him get through it. Maybe he’ll handle this better than I handled my dad’s death, I don’t know. 

He talked about good aspects of Abby, though of course he’d shared all of them with me before many times and most of it, I think, was more how Abby was back on the Ark than how she’d been lately. He said as strict and exacting as she was, she was supportive to him. Abby had done all she could to care for his mom when she was sick, she was caring and gentle with him when he started being an apprentice and not too tough at first, not until he was ready for it. He said she comforted him when his first boyfriend broke up with him, though I think – and I never met the guy – what an idiot he was to have dumped Eric Jackson, the finest man I ever met. 

I listened and nodded as he talked, and I agreed that she had many good qualities. It is going to be hard without her and Kane. But then we talked more about how the Primes took him into space and how I couldn’t do anything more than just stand and watch, terrified out of my mind that they’d go to one of the other moons and that I’d never see him again. We both felt chills at that, like we both felt sick at how we were almost permanently separated. I couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t imagine never seeing him again, didn’t know how I’d fall asleep without being pressed against him. We both owe Clarke and Madi our lives and our loyalty for defeating the Primes and getting the rest of the crew back to Sanctum.

So that’s it. I’m sad Abby’s gone and very sad for him and for Clarke. I hope we have time to have a memorial. (That thought brought back memories too. One of them just suddenly jumped into my head, it was an image of me and others standing outside Arkadia watching two bodies burn. I could smell the smoke and feel the cold air. I had to think and think as to when this was and who it was. Eventually I remembered it was Lincoln and Sinclair.) I wonder when all this will stop, when all our fights will end peacefully, when we don’t have to keep saying may we meet again.

But in any case, Abby Griffin, may we meet again. I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t always crazy about you – and you weren’t crazy about me either - but you worked hard and I think you meant well, and my man always cared about you a lot. I hope you and Kane are reunited in the next world and are hanging out in the promised land.

***

END OF CHAPTER - and comments are always appreciated and loved


	11. Goodnight

**Author’s Note:** This chapter is meant to follow “Sunlight”, chapter 7 of this fic. But as always, each chapter can stand alone, so no worries if you haven’t read “Sunlight”.

**Summary**: It’s bedtime on the Eligius. As the crew gets ready to go under for what they believe will be 10 years, Miller and Jackson would like to say a few farewells and goodnights to the people who were most significant to them. But Miller, like everyone else, is haunted by what he has lived through and what he has done.

***

Miller lay on his back, with Jackson nestled against his side. The doctor was sound asleep and didn’t appear likely to move anytime soon. No wonder, Miller mused. Jackson had spent the last – how long? – 24 hours or more performing surgery on Murphy, Gaia, Kane and countless others. And doing so in the unfamiliar med bay of the Eligius, after almost missing takeoff.

Miller tried to take another deep breath, but he knew that sleep wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. The bed was too big and too soft; it felt bizarre, alien almost. And Miller’s brain still was trying to process all that had happened. Almost losing Jackson to the bombs dropped by McCreary. The earth being destroyed. Again. And before that…the terrible battle in the gorge, which Miller himself had barely survived. Losing half of Wonkru, abandoning the bunker which had been his home for what felt like an eternity. It even felt odd just to be inside this unfamiliar stateroom right now, though he knew to be grateful for his ability to pick any lock. Despite the pleasurable activity that he and Jackson had engaged in just prior to Jackson’s falling asleep, Miller was far too keyed up to surrender to slumber. Maybe it was a blessing. When Miller closed his eyes, he either saw the pitiless gorge or the ramp of the Eligius.

So instead he took another look at Jackson, the doctor’s arm flung across Miller’s chest, the doctor’s head resting on Miller’s shoulder. This was good, Miller mused. Jackson had desperately needed sleep. And although Miller knew there were probably 100 things he could or should be doing, he resolved to cherish this moment. That’s what Jackson was always saying in the bunker. Grab onto and appreciate any happy moment; that’s what keeps you sane. Miller planted a kiss atop Jackson’s head. His hair smelled of disinfectants, medicine, smoke, and sweat.

Miller’s ears perked up as he heard a sound. Suddenly the door to the room opened, and Indra stepped through.

“There you two are,” Indra stated.

Indra’s entrance reminded Miller that he wasn’t the only person who knew how to open a lock or track people down. Regardless, Indra’s action right now did not constitute a breach of etiquette; Wonkru was fairly used to limited privacy, and besides Indra was the head of Blodreina’s army. Or she had been.

Jackson, with his sixth sense for gauging when he might be needed, was awake and alert in an instant. “Is Gaia okay?” he asked, his voice not even sounding groggy. Miller shifted to facilitate Jackson sitting up.

Indra’s expression was inscrutable as always, except for a hint of something in her eyes and in the softer tone she used as she answered, “She is. Thank you for everything you did, Jackson.” And then, sounding much more like her usual self, Indra continued, “It’s time for you two to get up. Clarke and the others have come to a decision about out next steps. Get dressed and I will fill you in.”

As Indra turned her back to give the two men a sliver of privacy, she explained the plan. Ten years of sleep in cryo until the earth healed itself. Ten years! Another major turn of events which Miller and Jackson had no control over; they just needed to adapt, survive, and try to forget the past, as they always did.

As Miller reached to pick his trousers off the floor, he couldn’t resist some sarcastic commentary. “Yeah, Jackson. Hurry up and get up – so you can go back to sleep!”

Jackson gave his partner a look – it was generally not advisable to make sarcastic quips with Indra present – but he thought he heard Indra softly chuckle. Maybe, he figured, she was so relieved and grateful at the fact that her daughter was safe that she would let this one go.

***

The trio walked through the unfamiliar corridors of the Eligius, their first destination med bay. Another big tin can, Miller mused, like the one he’d grown up in. And once again, he found himself living either above the earth or below it instead of actually on it. Miraculously, no fights seemed to be breaking out between Wonkru and Diyoza’s people. Most folks milling about the halls had that dazed, shell-shocked look.

As soon as they entered med bay, Jackson went right up to Abby to recalibrate on the condition of Kane and their other patients. Miller stood off to the side and silently observed. Jackson still hung on every word of Abby’s. He asked questions and seemed to absorb Abby’s answers. Jackson’s face began to reflect Abby’s own pain, which really stung at Miller’s heart, especially after Jackson had been so content and peaceful just moments ago.

Miller realized he was shaking his head. While Abby and Kane had spent those weeks with Diyoza, Jackson had easily commanded med bay and tended to everyone who needed it. He had pulled from death’s grip many of those wounded in the final battle. But now standing next to Abby, he was a different person. Jackson was, Miller thought, reduced to being that 13 year old who had been honored and elated when the hallowed Dr. Griffin had agreed to mentor him. He looked smaller, weaker - and Miller hated that. True, the indicators of this change were very subtle – a slight hesitation in Jackson’s voice or the way he leaned forward when Abby spoke as if to soak up every word. Miller sadly reflected that he was the only person who cared enough about Jackson to even notice.

Thankfully Miller was pulled from these thoughts when the doors to med bay opened. Murphy and Emori entered, the former looking pale and leaning on his girlfriend. Miller couldn’t resist breaking out into a spontaneous smile. No, he’d never cared much for Murphy but he **was** one of handful of the 100 who were somehow still alive.

And with that thought, Miller felt another stab. “One of the 100”. The phrase called to mind the words Bellamy had said to him recently. “_So much for the 100.”_

Bellamy. Whom Miller had failed to lift a finger to help. Bellamy who had only been saved from the arena by a timely interruption from Monty. How do you ever repair that? The guilt jabbed at Miller again. He swallowed. The loss of Bellamy’s friendship was going to have to be just another loss he would have to absorb.

“We just came here to thank Jackson,” Emori said.

“Yeah,” Murphy added, taking a pointed look at Abby. “You’re not getting me up on that table again or running another goddamned test on me.” He took a breath and then looked in Jackson’s direction, “So yeah, I hear that you pulled a couple bullets out of me. Thanks for keeping this cockroach alive.”

It was weird, uncanny, and wonderful being able to glance at one person and know exactly what they were feeling and thinking. Miller looked at Jackson and knew precisely where his mind was, from the mournful look in his eyes and the way he’d glanced downwards and shifted his weight just a bit. Becca’s island. He was still thinking of what they had done to Emori on Becca’s island. He didn’t want to accept the gratitude from Murphy; in fact he couldn’t.

Jackson muttered something to the effect of, “I’m glad you’re okay,” and Murphy and Emori stumbled out of med bay shortly after that.

***

“We’re really going under for ten years? And I thought I had seen it all in my life.”

Niylah greeted Miller and Jackson with hugs. The trio, plus Indra and Gaia, were gathered inside the large chamber which housed hundreds of cryo pods. Members of Wonkru and the Eligius crew milled around; the loud hum of multiple conversations dominated the room. Several people had already chosen to go under. They were hungry, they saw no point in waiting, and they had no one to bid goodnight to.

Gaia, too, reached to pull Jackson into a hug and she again murmured her gratitude at his skill in saving her. She had recovered remarkably well. The five stood around and talked about the decision that had been made, about the new commander, the ship, their fellow Wonkru members. It was easy, Miller mused. Talking with Niylah and Gaia had always been easy and uncomplicated. (He and Jackson had fleetingly wished, over the years, that Niylah and Gaia had been a couple – one to mirror their own pairing. But Gaia wasn’t attracted to women and Niylah was preoccupied with Blodreina, so that wasn’t going to happen).

Why was it so much easier to be around some people and not others? Miller even found being around Indra simple, despite the fact that she basically was his boss, despite their horrible schism over Blodreina versus Madi, despite the fact that Indra had knocked out Jackson weeks ago. They’d always had a tacit agreement to forgive and forget though. That was just part of life inside the bunker. Maybe, years later – if they lived that long – they’d regard themselves and each other as bunker survivors.

“We’re all good people,” Indra said quietly at one point. “We did what we had to in the bunker. We kept the human race alive.”

Gaia reached to grasp her mother’s hand, and Indra warmly took it. Miller stood by, glad to be a part of this group.

They continued to speak softly, mostly just stunned at their good fortune of still being alive. Jackson suddenly turned his head and then gently nudged Miller. Miller followed his gaze. Monty and Harper had entered the chamber.

Jackson tilted his head, indicating that Miller should speak to them. Monty and Harper were fellow members of the 100. They had survived Mount Weather with Miller and had served in the guard with him. And yet. There was this chasm between them now. Did they view him as a bloodthirsty warmonger? A mindless, fanatic supporter of Blodreina? **Was** he those things?

Miller took a breath. Jackson was right, and he should speak to them. What was the worst they could do? Even if Monty and Harper hated him, they were unlikely to get aggressive with him. Miller knew full well during their time in the guard that neither Monty nor Harper had ever really wanted to pick up a gun. Even if they disapproved of his actions, they were unlikely to start a fight with him. A thought just popped into Miller’s head: these two will be great parents someday.

Monty and Harper smiled at Miller as he approached, and his heart lifted. He couldn’t explain it but somehow he knew that their smiles and the looks in their eyes meant that they understood, and they didn’t judge.

“I, uh, just wanted to thank you,” Miller began. “We’d still be in the bunker if it weren’t for you. Well, I mean all of you….I guess I should find Bellamy and Clarke and thank them too.”

Monty tapped Miller’s arm, which both reassured him and got him to cease rambling. “We’re glad you’re okay.”

“And glad to see that you and Jackson are together,” Harper added. “We had a bit of time with him while you were on the frontlines.”

“I’m really lucky. And hey – likewise. I always thought the two of you made a good couple.” Miller stumbled over the words a bit; he’d nearly called them a “cute” couple, but fortunately had substituted the word “good” at the last millisecond.

Miller was about to open his mouth again. He wanted to tell Monty and Harper that they somehow made him feel hopeful, made him feel like there was a future. But he gulped as he saw Blodreina - or was it just Octavia now? – enter the chamber. She looked so different. There was no blood or dirt on her face, and the white shirt she wore made Miller blink a couple times.

A few things happened within the next few instances. Monty and Harper were called away – there was something that required Monty’s attention. While bidding them farewell (and heartbreakingly, Miller would learn only much later that that was to have been his final interaction with them, ever), he somehow found himself only steps away from Blodreina. He started, as if to move towards her. She gave him a look, one that said nothing more than ‘keep away’. Miller turned and retreated.

Suddenly, Jackson was there beside him. “Hey,” Jackson said softly, low enough that only Miller could hear. “It’s okay.”

Miller sighed. “I wanted something from her. I don’t know what. Maybe just something to say that my service meant something to her.”

Jackson leaned in closely as Miller spoke quietly, placing a hand on Miller’s arm. Miller continued, “I was crazy to expect something from her.”

“She’s going through a lot,” Jackson insisted, looking intently into Miller’s eyes. “This has nothing to do with you. And besides, you’re a good, whole person. You don’t need her validation.”

Miller took a breath and met Jackson’s eyes. “But you need Abby’s,” he stated flatly. “You always need it.”

Jackson was quiet for a few moments. “Yeah,” he acknowledged with a slight head tilt. “Maybe I’m not the best one to give advice here, huh?” he added with a slight smile.

“Just remember that you ran med bay like a boss while she was gone. You patched Indra and Blodreina up while Abby was with D-“

Miller broke off abruptly as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy entering the chamber. He felt his mouth grow dry and knew his pulse had picked up a bit.

“Say something to him,” Jackson directed.

“What do I say?” Miller retorted sarcastically. “_I missed you a lot all those years. Sorry I left you in the pits. I was really afraid of your sister. Still am.”_

“Yes,” Jackson answered with a firm nod. “Say exactly that.”

Miller stood still for a couple of seconds. He then took a resolute breath and turned towards Bellamy. But suddenly, before Miller could take a step, Raven entered the room. She strode up to Bellamy, apparently needing him for something. They began what looked like a serious discussion, and then Clarke entered a moment later, gathering people together and telling them that it was time. She started directing them to the individual cryo pods.

“Well, I’m 0-2 with the Blakes today,” Miller muttered, though he knew it was odd to refer to Blodreina as a Blake. Most people around them were following Clarke, gradually entering their beds, as Monty came through and pressed buttons to put them down for their long naps.

“But there’s always tomorrow,” Jackson said softly. “Let’s hope things are better when we wake up. It shouldn’t feel like much time has passed. You’ll get your chance then.”

“I hope so,” Miller said, pulling Jackson into a hug. He then said the words, though they didn’t really need to be said. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

THE END

**Another quick author’s note:**  
With Miller and Jackson being minor characters on the show, you have to latch onto the small moments and think through what they mean, since that’s all they get on camera! In Season 6, Jackson and Abby have a falling out (when she calls him a war criminal), and Miller snaps at Octavia when Jackson is being taken by the Primes. I thought those were significant moments for both men, since Miller had spent the last six years under Octavia’s rule….and Jackson had spent longer than that under Abby’s! So I thought this fic could give me a little chance to set the stage for those scenes here. And the reconciliation between Miller and Bellamy in Season 6 deserved a bit of set-up too.


	12. Healer

_Special thanks to Penguin of Prose for beta-testing this chapter!_

* * *

Kara Cooper’s rebellion had failed. In one fell swoop, the door to the mess hall moved aside and the room went dark. Octavia led a group of angry grounders charging through the door. “Only the guilty!” Octavia demanded, and Wonkru obeyed.

Jackson stood against the wall, his heart pounding. He didn’t fear for his life, despite the enraged grounders and the shouts of the panicked Skaikru. When Jackson had been 17, he’d gotten his heart broken under similar circumstances. Was tonight going to be a repeat? Another time when he had shamefully let his lover down and would pay the price?

* * *

The man’s name was Robert, and he was a couple years older than Jackson. A member of the guard, Robert was strong, brave, bold. He was muscular, and Jackson had loved falling asleep next to his large frame, feeling safe and secure.

Jackson enjoyed all of his time spent with Robert, even their less-than-enriching activities such as going out drinking with Robert’s friends in the guard. Robert tended to dominate the conversation, one arm flung around Jackson’s thin shoulders, the other holding his drink. Jackson would listen with rapt attention, along with the other guards, to whatever story Robert was weaving. His head tilted towards his boyfriend, Jackson would laugh along with the others at Robert’s latest bawdy tale.

Robert called the shots in everything, and Jackson was fine with that too. Jackson hadn’t had any sexual experience before, so Robert trained him to do what he wanted. Just as he was in his work, Jackson was a diligent student.

There had been a few signs that all might not end well with Robert. For one thing, Abby didn’t like him. (“Come on, she hardly likes anybody!” Robert had quipped, though the subject made Jackson’s stomach lurch a bit). Robert also didn’t care for the long hours Jackson spent in med bay, and Jackson wished his boyfriend would be a bit more understanding when he tried to explain to him that he didn’t have the type of job where he could just clock out at certain times.

It had all unraveled one evening, when they had been together for almost a year. Enjoying some rare time off, Jackson sat in a large hall with a couple hundred others as an old movie called “Moonlight” played. Robert’s shift was scheduled to end soon, so he’d get there eventually, but for now Jackson sat with a handful of Robert’s friends from the guard. The movie’s sound and picture quality left a lot to be desired, and half of the room had seen it before anyway given the limited options available on the Ark.

And then suddenly, an attack. It all happened so quickly that young Jackson could barely take it in. He would later learn that Factory Station workers had organized a revolt to push back against their working conditions and hours, but at the moment, the incident flew by in a rush. It was a flurry of shouting, punches, bullets, and general chaos. Two young guardsmen helped Jackson take cover behind an overturned table during the fight. The guards soon prevailed and quelled the rebellion. The factory station workers were soon arrested – and of course, floated the next day.

As Jackson sat hunched behind the table, he tried to will his breath to slow down. His ears rang. He’d seen violence before but never experienced the terror of gunshots fired right in front of him. He hugged himself, trying to stop shaking. He knew he needed to get up and tend to the wounded, but he couldn’t do that if his hands didn’t stop trembling. He’d give anything for Robert to be there right now, to hold him. God, that would feel good, he told himself, as he gulped more air. Robert and those big, strong arms of his would make everything right.

And suddenly, Robert **was** there. He stood just feet away from where Jackson remained crouched behind the overturned table, talking to two of his guard friends. Jackson sat looking up, waiting. Why wasn’t Robert going to him? The room was quiet now, Jackson observed – even the ringing in his own ears seemed to be abating. And yet Robert remained standing there, talking to his friends. The fog in his brain began to clear, and Jackson’s senses grew sharp. He caught snippets of Robert’s words. Words and phrases such as “so he just hid during the entire fight?....coward….no boyfriend of mine….weak….yeah, I could do a lot better.” Robert’s friends, meanwhile, smirked and laughed, and occasionally threw pitying glances at Jackson.

Jackson remained sitting, wide-eyed, mildly nauseated, as a new emotion began to ooze through his body: shame.

With one last, contemptuous glance, Robert leered at Jackson and then turned away. Jackson still sat on the ground, looking at his hands. They still shook, and he knew he’d be almost useless in med bay until he could get a hold of his emotions.

Moments later, an older member of the guard approached Jackson and lowered himself down to the ground. He sat next to the apprentice doctor, put an arm around him, and spoke soothingly. Jackson didn’t remember what the older guardsman said, but his patience and solid presence gave him the boost he needed to feel safe, and get up so he could begin to treat the injured.

In a strange quirk of fate, Jackson’s memory purged the name and image of that guardsman who had been so gentle with him. He was too traumatized, first by witnessing the attack and then by Robert’s rejection that his brain simply failed to hold every detail. So he would never know that the older guardsman had been the one and only Sargent David Miller.

Years later, Jackson could reflect on his relationship with Robert and understand it better. Robert had likely grown tired of him. Jackson’s panic during the incident had simply provided Robert a chance to make himself look good in front of his friends who, truly, were as brutish and superficial as Robert - and an excuse to dump Jackson. (And oh, how Jackson had tried to get him back! He’d written letters and sent gifts and even done some begging, but to no avail). He knew now that he was a good doctor, a brave and caring one. But vestiges of the shame and embarrassment remained latent.

* * *

And now, in the bunker, the attempted coup was squelched and a flurry of activity followed. Jackson followed Abby and Kane to Jaha, where the former chancellor lay dying. Tears prickled Jackson’s eyes, though he’d never had much love for Jaha. After the Traveler’s Blessing had been spoken and Octavia left the area to meet with Indra and Gaia, Jackson quietly offered, “I’ll take care of the body.”

Abby nodded. She placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder and added, “Hurry to the rotunda when you’re done. It sounds like everyone is going to be assembling there.”

Jackson took his time with his unpleasant task. He wanted to see Miller, but dreaded what would happen after that.

_What will he think?_ Jackson asked himself as he worked. _I didn’t grab Cooper’s gun when I could have. I couldn’t convince anyone else to fight back._ Jackson’s hands no longer shook; his movements were steady though his mind continued its downward spiral. _Miller’s father was a guard. Miller’s last boyfriend was a guard. One of the people he respected the most – Bellamy – was a great fighter. But I didn’t pick up a gun and fight. It’s something I can never do._

_What an idiot I was to fall in love. It’s just going to be more pain, more heartache. More shame because I can’t measure up._

His work finished, Jackson knew it was time to leave med bay and head for the rotunda. By now, people had probably filled Miller in on what happened. It was unlikely, he tried to reassure himself, that people were going up to Miller and telling him that his boyfriend was a coward.

Or were they? And was Miller standing there saying that he didn’t know what he’d ever seen in Jackson, that a weakling like Jackson was no boyfriend of his?

Jackson sighed. He’d have to face this sooner or later. He steeled himself for heartbreak and rushed to the rotunda. ‘_If he doesn’t want me, he doesn’t want me_,’ he told himself as he hurried. ‘_I can’t be someone I’m not. I survived my first love dumping me, I can survive this.’_

But as Jackson entered the buzzing rotunda, his resolve began to crumble. The space was crowded, filled with the heat of angry, scared, and confused human beings. Their voices bounced off each wall as people waited for their leader.

Jackson spotted Miller. The brave young man was breaking up a fight. As Jackson rushed towards him, he knew he was done for. He loved this man and would do anything to keep him. He would grovel if he needed to. He called to him and, as soon as Miller spotted him, Jackson realized that his boyfriend was going to pull him into a hug. Breathless, he pulled back from the hug and opened his mouth to explain himself. “I tried to stop it. I tried, but nobody—“

Miller cut him off with a gentle, “Shhhh. It’s okay. I know. Look. You’re a healer, not a fighter.” They gently touched their foreheads together. “That’s why I love you.” Miller pulled him into a kiss.

* * *

As soon as the two men could gather a quiet moment, they sat down and spoke. They had been together less than two months and hadn’t yet plumbed the depths of each other’s histories. Jackson had shared before that he’d had a boyfriend years ago on the Ark, but now it was time to tell Miller the entire story. He listened quietly.

“So you know that guy was an asshole, right?” Miller asked, when Jackson had finished. “If he were here, I’d have some words with him.”

“He’s not here,” Jackson added. “I never saw him on the ground – I think maybe he died on the Ark when the Exodus ship took off.”

“Well, he died a damn fool. Who wouldn’t be honored to have **you** as their partner? And who in the hell doesn’t value a healer?”

“Well technically I was only an apprentice when we were dating.”

Miller gave Jackson a look.

“Okay, you’re right,” Jackson smiled, loving the facial expression Miller had made. “That shouldn’t have mattered. And he was an asshole. It was silly of me not to see it back then.” He reached for Miller’s hand and held it. “Thank you for loving me the way I am.”

“Uh, you do know that I had worries that I wasn’t good enough for **you**, right? That you were way above me because you’re a doctor, and I’m just a former delinquent.”

“Wait, what? You did??”

Jackson absorbed that information for a minute. He squeezed Miller’s hand. “You know,” he began quietly, “we should thank Octavia. Or – I mean, Blodreina. When the doors opened, she ordered that they take only the guilty. It could have been a bloodbath in there. Her order might’ve saved my life.” A bloodbath had occurred, of course, later on inside the arena. But Octavia’s order of restraint had saved the innocent.

“I already thanked her for that. We owe her.”

**THE END**

_Author’s Notes:_  
In a previous chapter of this fic, I gave Jackson two ex-boyfriends before Miller and briefly described the circumstances of their breakups. Neither ex was Robert, so I realize that I’ve contradicted my own fic here! But I figure that canon tells us nothing about any of Jackson’s previous relationships, so as long as I stay within canon, I’m fine.

Also, I wanted to include that last piece about Octavia as well. People sometimes question why Miller (and by extension, Jackson) was so loyal to Blodreina. I think there were many reasons, and here’s one of them.

Thank you to everyone who has left a review or a kudo!


	13. Stoic

_Thank you to Penguin of Prose for beta testing!_

* * *

You watch people line up in front of the room that is serving as the chancellor’s office. Each person is dropping a slip of paper with their name into a bowl. Kane will draw 81 names to determine who will survive the death wave.

You try not to get caught up in the hysteria and misery that are palpable inside the rotunda as hundreds of terrified and angry Skaikru stand around, knowing that the death wave is hours away, still unable to accept that the bunker no longer belongs solely to them. The rotunda pulses with sweat and fear and a type of energy which is likely to be converted into panic or rage at any moment. You take another breath and try to compose yourself. You need to look placid and calm at all times. You need to **be** placid and calm at all times.

You look around at the people here who you care about the most. Abby, always Abby. Nathan Miller and his father. You calculate the odds that all three of these people are going to survive the death wave. Abby will survive for sure. “Essential station personnel”. You hate that term, but that’s what you and Abby are.

The Millers are not essential. Not the younger man you spent the last three weeks glued to the side of - and not his father. You stand back so they can line up for a chance to enter the lottery. Nathan reaches for you and gives you a brief hug before he enters the line. You have no words. You just return the hug as best as you can and hold onto him for a few seconds too long, wishing that there was a drug you could take to dull your feelings.

You do the math in your head again. Eighty-one places for 450 Arkadians. The odds that one Miller will survive are about 18%. The odds that both will survive are around 9%.

You have no control over the outcome. You tell yourself that over and over. You remember how your mother and your grandmother taught you to be stoic in the face or pain and loss. You remember how well their advice always worked for you before.

You think about the numbers again. Nathan is likely not going to survive this. The odds are terrible. 

Nathan is probably going to die tonight.

You will go on with your life.

You will go on healing people.

As the months and the years pass, you’ll think back to the man you were with for a few weeks before the world ended, the man you had feelings for. You’ll wonder ‘Was he the one?’

You’ll wish he had made it.

You’ll wish you hadn’t fallen for him, so hard and so fast, and you’ll feel the stab of pain again. You’ll wonder what his life would’ve been like, what it would’ve been like to have him by your side over the years. You’ll think about how he didn’t even make it to age 19 and your heart will drop.

You’ll likely not fall in love again, or at least you’ll try not to. You’ll try to do what you’ve always done. Find purpose and fulfillment in healing others. That used to be all you needed, until it wasn’t.

You feel time passing, you are standing next to both Millers, and Kane begins the lottery. The level of malaise and fear in the room rises; it’s as thick as smoke now. You glance at the Millers. Both look as stoic as you try to be. You’ve been holding Nathan’s hand for a while and it’s surprisingly dry. The elder Miller truly looks as if he’s accepted his fate and is at peace with it.

“I said ‘here goes nothing’ when I put my name in,” Nathan says to you. He’s got that look on his face, somewhere between a smile and a smirk, all sarcasm and sweetness. You love that look. You try to remember it. You feel your heart turning into a puddle and you know you’re doing a terrible job at detachment. You remind yourself that you’re only human, you can’t always control your emotions. You squeeze Nathan’s hand, again wishing you had something comforting or insightful to say but your mouth is dry.

You realize that your thoughts are running wild and you take a few more breaths, trying to steady them.

Kane starts drawing names. You look around the room and remember all the times you’ve witnessed death. You replay your mother’s death and remind yourself that the pain from that event faded just a bit as each day and each year went by. It started out unbearable but somehow as the years went by you just bore it.

Nate leans over to you. He opens his mouth, about to say something. In the milliseconds that follow, you wonder what he might say. What do you say when you’re in this situation, when your people are doing the unthinkable because they have no choice?

And then Kane pulls another slip of paper. “Nate Miller,” Kane announces.

You look at Nate. There’s no jubilation to be had anywhere here today, but relief is a feeling like no other. You pull each other into a solemn hug, his hands coming around against your back and shoulders. Yours is against the back of his head. For one moment, you feel comfort inside this hellhole.

Everything after that happens too fast. Nate hugs his father and they exchange a few words. Kane asks you to take over the lottery. This might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and your legs feel weak and shaky. You reach into the bowl and call out a name. Then Hardy starts yelling and riles everyone up.

You lose control of the situation, Hardy knocks over the bowl, and you silently berate yourself. You tried to reason with him but he didn’t listen. You’re not a leader, and you can’t get anyone to listen to you. You can’t – you won’t – use physical violence on Hardy. The world is about to end and the death wave is almost here but you worry about how weak you look in front of your boyfriend and his father. Shame overtakes you. People start chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Then you somehow hear Nathan’s voice in your head. ‘You’re not Skairipa,’ he says, again with his trademark wit. ‘You’re a healer. I love you for who you are.’ You feel lightheaded and you’re not sure if Nathan is actually saying the words to you right now or if you just think he’s saying them. And then you are lightheaded, as the room descends into chaos, gas is pumped in, and you’re dimly aware that you’re falling to the cold floor.

***

Some time later you’re coughing, and Nate Miller is squatting next to you, pressing a canteen to your lips. He’s telling you what happened, but your brain needs a few moments to catch up and process the information. When you think you understand, you formulate a question for your lover even though you already know the answer. “Your dad?” you ask, and your voice comes out somewhere between a rasp and a croak.

You watch him look down and shake his head. You pull him into an awkward hug, he’s still squatting and you’re half sitting up. You hold onto him for as long as you can. You look around the room. There are injuries and you are needed. You only survived this because you are a doctor, so you’d best get to work. You look at Nate again.

He nods and helps you to your feet. You manage to say a few words. “I – I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I’m here for you.”

“I know,” he says. He reaches for your hand and holds it. He brushes your lips with his.

And then Indra is approaching Nate, and Kane is seeking you out. You exchange a look with your lover, and you both get back to your duties.

**THE END**

**Author’s note:** The actor who plays Jackson (Sachin Sahel) recently posted a tribute to Jackson. He referred to Jackson as “stoic”, and I was thinking that Jackson’s stoicism probably served him well many times – and especially during the lottery.


	14. Between

**Author’s note:** We never see Miller and Jackson interact before Season 4. But they both lived at Camp Jaha during the break between Seasons 2 and 3. Their paths had to have crossed at some point, right?

***

It’s been a long day, and Camp Jaha’s bar is a welcome sight. Nathan Miller looks around and slides into a seat. He prides himself on being friendly with almost everyone, but today he doesn’t spot any of his close friends. That’s fine too, he decides. No harm in drinking alone.

Four weeks now since Miller and the others were rescued from Mount Weather, and he can truly say that each day has been full. He began this one with breakfast with his dad and then another lesson on proper gun usage. Then onto a long afternoon spent patrolling. Maybe being busy is good, he thinks. Less time to feel bad about Mount Weather. Miller mourns the good people like Maya too; he just doesn’t show it. In any case, he knows he’s more than earned his daily alcoholic beverage today.

At least the doctor isn’t here again today to remind him of yesterday’s encounter. “Here you go,” the bartender enthuses, sliding a glass his way. “One daily ration of the fermented drink of the day!”

“Thank you,” Miller smiles. The drink doesn’t taste any better than yesterday’s or the one the day before, but he trusts that it will be potent and that a pleasant buzz will follow.

Yesterday, Doctor Eric Jackson had offered Miller a drink. The interaction had been quick, but clear. Jackson had approached him, struck up a conversation, smiled, and gave just enough signals to make his intent known. Jackson’s shining eyes, awkward smile, and offer of a precious drink left little doubt that this was not just a doctor checking on a former patient.

Miller hadn’t been surprised by Jackson’s interest either. They’d spoken a few times in med bay; Miller sported plenty of injuries after Mount Weather that needed treatment. Harper had once even remarked, ‘Doctor Jackson seems to **lavish** you with attention! Are your injuries really that bad?’ Fleetingly Miller had wondered about his and Jackson’s age difference, but then vaguely remembered that he had, indeed, turned 18 at some point recently.

“Hey, I’d love to have that drink,” Miller had said with a glance downwards. “But I, uh, have a boyfriend. He’s missing. Farm Station. But I gotta wait for him – I **want** to wait for him. So, you know….”

As Miller had let his voice trail off, Jackson piped up, “I’m sorry! I didn’t know.” A slight blush colored the doctor’s face.

“It’s okay. How would you?” Miller had responded, with a smile. “You’re busy saving lives, you don’t get much time for gossip, do you?”

“No,” Jackson had admitted, glancing at the exit and looking very grateful for a way out of this conversation. “Well, speaking of that, I’d better go see if Abby needs me.”

And thus their encounter yesterday had ended. Miller has replayed it several times during the past 24 hours. He hasn’t been the most alert patrolman today.

Miller downs a few more gulps of his drink before reminding himself to savor it. ‘No one else is going to offer his ration to me today, that’s for sure,’ he tells himself. And then he smiles at the sight of Bellamy Blake entering the bar, alone. Miller waves him over, and Bellamy goes right up to him, slapping him on the back and taking a seat.

“How’s the drink of the day?” Bellamy asks, looking pointedly at the beverage.

“Same as yesterday’s,” Miller replies. “Don’t get your hopes up too high. But hey, it’s still booze.”

There’s such a comfort, Miller knows, in being around Bellamy. Miller doesn’t have any conflicted feelings about him, doesn’t have to face a battle between temptation and loyalty. Miller asks Bellamy about his day, asks how Octavia is doing, and doesn’t even hesitate to ask if Bellamy has any word on Clarke’s whereabouts, knowing how much Bellamy cares about and misses her.

“Can’t talk about Clarke today,” Bellamy says, shaking his head and reaching for his drink, and Miller again appreciates the ease and honesty he has with him. Bellamy doesn’t need to say anything more than that on the topic, and Miller respects it knowing that Bellamy will talk about Clarke if and when he’s ready. Miller also suspects that now is not the time to ask Bellamy about Gina. It’s clear to him that Gina is a substitute for Clarke, but Miller doesn’t see a need to bring that up. He figures that Bellamy will feel the truth as soon as Clarke returns.

“What about you?” Bellamy asks, turning to look at Miller. “What’d you do today?”

Miller looks around the bar, and seeing no one within earshot – and no sign of Jackson – decides to tell Bellamy. “Had an interesting encounter right here yesterday. The doctor – Jackson – he hit on me.”

“He did?” Bellamy asks, raising his eyebrows.

Miller figures that Bellamy’s only human and can use something to take his mind off of Clarke. He thinks Bellamy almost looks relieved.

“You told him no, right?” Bellamy continues. “He didn’t know about Bryan, I take it?”

“Right,” Miller confirms. “The guy probably spends all day in med bay and has no idea who’s with who.” Miller places a hand on the counter and admits flatly, “I gotta admit, I was tempted though. Something about Jackson. I don’t know. I’m intrigued.”

It feels good to get the words out.

“Miller.” Bellamy says, making the word into a sentence as he looks intently at him. “It hasn’t been that long since the Ark went down. There could be – there **have to** be – plenty of survivors. We’ll find them sooner or later.” Bellamy’s voice is strong and assured.

“My dad said the same thing. I talked about it with him this morning.” Miller smiles. “That was kind of an awkward conversation because my dad loves Jackson. And he’s never been that crazy about Bryan. But yeah, my dad was there when the Ark went down. He told me what a mess it was and how it could take a while to find everyone.”

“He’s right,” Bellamy says, again placing a hand on Miller’s back. “It’s okay to be tempted, but you’re a loyal guy. That’s who you are. Just keep thinking about the day you’ll see Bryan again. You don’t want to have to tell him that you have someone else.” He smiles and adds, “Or that you screwed someone else.”

“Gonna have to start calling you ‘dad’ because my dad also said that this morning. Except for the part about ‘screwing’ someone,” Miller chuckles and takes another swig of his drink. He wishes there was more of it left.

The two men continue to talk. A few other members of the 100 enter the bar and join them for a spell. Miller finds himself glancing towards the entrance several times though and sometimes even wondering when he’s next due in med bay for his various wounds to be checked upon. He keeps thinking of Jackson and that inviting smile.

_Will I ever see Bryan again? Will Jackson find someone else while I keep waiting? What would it be like to be his man? He seems sweet. Mature. Doesn’t seem like much fun though. Bryan’s fun. Do I still even **want** fun? If Bryan somehow is even still alive, how different would he be now? How different am **I** since our crazy days together on the Ark?_

“Just remember who you are,” Bellamy says before they part. “You’re a loyal guy.”

Miller nods. Bellamy is right. Best to stop thinking of the doctor. Not much room for ‘what could have been’ in this world.

***

Not less than ten days later, Miller is helping a fellow guard get to med bay. Her wound isn’t serious but it does need attention. As soon as they enter the room, Jackson gets right to work, barely sparing a glance at Miller. Miller lingers for a few moments, watching Jackson stitch up the wound. He wants Jackson to look at him, wants to see that look on his face again, the one he had at the bar. But the doctor is focused on his work and Miller accepts that it’s not going to happen. Miller observes a gentleness and even a delicacy to the way Jackson cares for the guard, and his heart lurches.

THE END


	15. Switch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miller and Jackson have both been on the show since Season 1, but they don’t interact much until Becca’s Island in Season 4. During the first episode of Season 4 though, Clarke and Bellamy tell us that Jackson, Miller, and Bryan are with a group returning to Arkadia after the battle at Polis. I always wondered how they might have interacted during that trip, especially since Jackson had just been in the City of Light…

***

“I never got the story. Murphy loves to gossip and he told us up on the ring that you and Bryan had broken up, and that you and Jackson hooked up before Praimfaya.” A pause. “Looks like it turned into a lot more than a hookup. So when did you first realize you liked him?”

Bellamy was right – we hardly ever got to talk about this stuff. We didn’t exactly sit around having heartwarming discussions about our love lives, we didn’t have time. But now, finally, we did - so I told him the story.

***

It was the day we left Polis, after the last battle with ALIE. It was grey, damp, and ugly with lots of confused people wandering about, clutching at their injuries. We were our way back to Arkadia. Me, Bryan, Jackson, and a handful of other people. My Dad radioed to say that he was okay and I finally exhaled a bit. Bryan needed lots of help to walk though, and I didn’t care how exhausted I was – I did everything I could to take most of his weight. We finally got to a rover, Sergeant Dunn got behind the driver’s seat, and I helped Bryan into the back.

“You’re injured. Let me look at it.”

Jackson offered that to Bryan. Yeah, it’s weird to look back and realize that one guy was my soon-to-be ex boyfriend and the other was soon to be the guy I’ll spend the rest of my life with. I sure had no idea about that then. In fact, I was a little jerk, thinking about how wrong and bad Jackson had been for deciding to go get himself chipped.

“Only if you’re up for it,” I butted in, looking straight at Jackson. “And your brain’s not still in the City of Light.” I didn’t care if my words sounded harsh, didn’t care how angry I looked.

Jackson didn’t say anything other than a soft, “I’m up for it,” though he didn’t look at me when he said it. Bryan nodded and Jackson got to work on taking care of his injuries.

You kinda know when you went too far, when you hurt the feelings of someone who never hurt you. Jackson kept his eyes away from mine, he got and stayed real quiet. Looking at him, it kinda stabbed at me, knowing I’d been too rude. I told myself I had every right to be mad at the doctor. If he and the others hadn’t decided to get chipped, this mess of a battle might not’ve happened. Bryan wouldn’t have been injured and I wouldn’t have spent the past few days not sure if my dad was alive or dead. Lives were lost because some Arkadians decided to take the chip.

Jackson took his time with Bryan. So I had lots of time to watch and think. He looked closely at Bryan’s wounds and then rummaged around under the seat. Zeroed in on the first aid kit. The rover jerked a bit, Bryan swore, but Jackson stayed focused on helping Bryan. I looked at his hands. He was efficient but not at all rushed. I kept watching what he did. He saw Bryan wince, warned that when he applied the antiseptic it would burn a little but should go away in a minute. He was taking good care of my boyfriend.

_Damn, his touch looks gentle. I want someone touching me like that._

That was it, like a jolt. Like my brain lurched along with the rover. I knew I shouldn’t have been thinking about how I wanted a guy with a more gentle touch, not while my boyfriend Bryan was right there. Well, wrong or right, that’s what I thought then. That’s when the switch in my mind was flipped. That’s why it didn’t hurt that much when Bryan decided to break up with me a few weeks later.

“How’s that?” Jackson finally asked Bryan, in that soft voice of his.

“Better,” Bryan said.

“We’ll take another look at it when we get to med bay.”

As I listened to them, I knew I hadn’t been fair to Jackson and I shouldn’t have been rude. **Jaha** was the one who brought ALIE to us and told everyone to take the chip. Lots of Arkadians respected Jaha. Jackson was just doing what a former chancellor told him to do. And besides, most of Arkadia took the chip. He wasn’t any more guilty than anyone else.

I wondered why he took the chip in the first place. I guessed maybe because he was a doctor and he thought it might help people? I wondered about it some more. Is the guy just plain lonely? Me, I had a dad who loved me and I had a boyfriend. I didn’t think I’ve ever seen Jackson hang out with anyone other than Abby. I doubted he even had a group of friends, like I did with the other 100.

“Thank you,” I said to him, “for taking care of Bryan. And, uh, I’m sorry I was kinda rude earlier. That wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. I saw him glancing at me and Bryan’s hands - we were holding hands - and I thought again that Jackson was lonely and that’s why he went into the City of Light. I thought again about those gentle hands of his and how I wanted to be holding his instead of Bryan’s.

***

“So that’s the story, Bellamy. My part of it anyway. Then we went to Becca’s island with Abby, he hit on me, somehow we survived the massive fiery death, and we’ve been together ever since. Now I wanna hear your story. Always thought you and Clarke would get together. But she didn’t make it to the ring with you. So is that why you’re with Echo?”

**THE END**


	16. Tears

**Tears**

“We spent six years living underground and they gave us the bedroom in the basement.”

Jackson made the statement dispassionately though Miller easily detected the edge in his voice that had been there since Jackson had returned from the Eligius.

Since Abby had been killed.

“It’s the second biggest room after the master suite,” Miller said, putting an arm around Jackson and surveying the room. It was cool and spacious, and as pretty as the rest of the house with its intricately carved wooden furniture and yellow accents. The bed was double the size of the one they squeezed into inside the bunker, and the room did have one window high up in the ceiling. “We were lucky to get it. We have our own bathroom,” Miller continued, smiling. “We have more privacy than anyone else here. And this house is huge. If we ever want more light and more windows, we could just hang out in the living room or the rec room. We won’t do much inside here besides sleep.” He paused, grinned, and added, “Well, sleep and….”

Jackson returned his grin, and Miller eagerly tried to read the expression on his face. But no, the smile didn’t quite reach Jackson’s eyes, and Miller wasn’t surprised by that.

Miller watched Jackson slowly walk around the room, peer again inside the closet and the en suite bathroom. “Look,” Miler continued, “when the weather’s warm, I’ll pitch a tent and we can sleep in the backyard. Look up at the stars. Couldn’t have even dreamed of doing that two months ago.” He quickly amended, “Two months and 125 years. Do those 125 years even count since we were out cold the whole time?”

He knew he was rambling. He wasn’t sure where to go from here. `No wait,’ Miller told himself. `You do know where to go. You were in the same headspace he is now when the door to the bunker was sealed and the stun gas wore off and you knew you’d never see your dad again.’ He winced. Losing his dad still hurt, would always hurt. You learned to live with it but the feeling always remained. Someone – had it been Gaia maybe? – had once told him that the feeling of loss was a small, quiet room that you never fully exited.

After opening a few dresser drawers, Jackson sat down upon the bed. Miller sat next to him.

“We’ve both lost our parents, we know what this is like” Jackson said simply, and Miller again put his arm around him. “I’ll get through this. I just need you to put up with me.” He paused and then added, “Like you did during the dark year.”

Jackson was the only person ever who spoke about it, who Miller could talk about it with. Miller shut his eyes for a few seconds. He fervently wished that the 125 years in cryo had erased his memories of that year but, no, he’d awoken with all of his memories intact.

And the memories of the dark year were always in the back of his mind. The nights spent throwing up or wishing he could, the feeling of walking around in a zombified state, not awake and not asleep, not alive and not dead. Feeling constantly as if he was covered with a damp, itchy blanket that he could never shed. Jackson had taken it worse than Miller, and it had been Miller who would rouse him from his sleep when a patient needed him, would walk with him to the horrifying dining hall, would put his arms around him and just hold him at night, patiently waiting for his sex drive to return some day. It did, but not until the soy crop recovered and they had a concrete end to the nightmare.

There really was no concrete end to the pain of losing a loved one though.

“I miss her too,” Miller said, his thoughts turning back to Abby. “And Kane. I miss him a lot.” He brushed aside thoughts of the dark year, of Abby’s and Kane’s different roles in it, of their struggles with Blodreina. Miller and Jackson, along with Indra, Gaia, and Niylah, always knew everything that was going on inside that bunker.

Jackson nodded, and Miller saw the tears in his eyes. He was glad to see them. He loved Jackson all the more for his ability to feel and to show what he was feeling. He considered it a strength and had told Jackson that more than once.

“Do you want to talk more about it?” Miller asked, stroking Jackson’s back. “If you’re ready. Might feel good.”

A gentle knock sounded on the door. “Time for the picnic,” Niylah called sweetly. “Also, I have a new dress.”

Jackson practically sprang from the bed. Miller wished for a few more minutes because he guessed that Jackson’s mindset wasn’t where it needed to be. He’d seen an agonized Jackson during the dark year but he didn’t know exactly what this new Jackson would be like, the one who had just lost Abby.

Miller reached a hand out as if to grab Jackson but was a second too late.

“I should check on Madi again too,” Jackson said, reaching for the doorknob. He then stopped and turned. He gave Miller a sweet but melancholy smile. “Thank you. I can’t talk about it right now. But thank you.”

**THE END**

**I love to connect with other fans. I recently changed my username on Tumblr. You can find me there now as The100epic**


	17. New

**Thank you as always to Penguin of Prose for phenomenal beta testing! I wish every writer had such a great beta.**

**About this chapter:...**As much as I love that Mackson is an established couple, I’ve been wanting to return to writing something from when they were new together. I promise another Season 7 chapter soon, but for now it’s back to Season 4 when Mackson first get together. So in the context of this fic, I’ve always said that each chapter stands alone but you could pretty much place this one chronologically right after “Matchmaking”. I should add that it contradicts the scenario I wrote in the chapter “Hope” though; I’ve aimed to improve upon it!

***

**Part I**

“So, are we going to spend more time together again?”

It’s the last thing Miller asks Jackson before the two men decide to return to the mission that they have temporarily paused: picking up Raven, Murphy, and Emori and driving them to the bunker. They have just gotten dressed, having finished spending far more time than they should have in each other’s arms, in the back of the rover.

For Miller, the encounter had meant several things. Some really good sex. A potential new relationship. And possibly the last sex and affection he will ever have if – for some reason – he doesn’t survive the death wave.

_Who the hell am I kidding_? Miller asks himself. _I don’t **do** casual when it comes to this stuff. I really really want this to be more than a hookup. If we live past the next five days._

So that’s why Miller asks the awkward question. He and Jackson did a good job communicating their preferences in the sexual department just now, but they haven’t talked about where this might go or what this even is. The words are awkward and Miller’s heart catches just a bit as he speaks them. But he wants to know what Jackson thinks.

“I’d like to,” Jackson answers simply, as he fastens his jacket. “Would you?”

“Yes.”

With that, Miller climbs back into the front seat, behind the wheel and Jackson resumes his shotgun position. Before Miller starts up the rover, Jackson reaches for him and plants one more kiss on his mouth. Miller can’t resist smiling.

***

The next several hours are a blur of constant activity. Murphy and Emori interrogate them during the ride; neither Miller nor Jackson tries too hard to deny that something is brewing between them. Jackson dozes off during part of the ride. Miller glances over at him a few times and feels his heart melt a bit – but as soon as they enter the bunker, there’s no time for anything except a flurry of work. Sergeant David Miller hands his son a task list immediately and Jackson is off to med bay before they can do much more than exchange a look and a “see you later”. Miller is put on a team organizing the bunker and finds himself at one point standing in the rotunda, directing members of the different Ark stations. At another point he’s on guard duty, which unfortunately means guarding his friend Bellamy. He is eventually relieved of his shift, runs into his dad in the hall, and his dad practically begs him to get some sleep.

“I will. Eventually,” Miller promises, though his insides are buzzing and he’s far too keyed up for sleep. There’s too much going on right now. A death wave that is just days away. A new home – drab, underground, utilitarian, and the only survivable place for the next five years. And Jackson. Miller has spent the past several hours, especially his time on guard duty, replaying his moments with Jackson in the rover. The man is a good kisser. And a good lover. Sure, it was awkward at times too like it always is your first time with someone new, but it was pretty wonderful once they’d gotten into a rhythm. Miller wants him back in his arms. He wants to be touching him again.

“There you are,” someone calls, approaching Miller, her boots sounding loudly on the ground as she strides up to him. The guard member is holding a tablet and saying that she’s working on roommate assignments. “We put you with Madrigal,” she says. “If you want to switch or have any requests, we can try to do it now – or wait till the dust settles.”

“Uh, that’s fine,” Miller manages. He wants to request Jackson but it’s just too early. The two shared a sexual tryst and a promise of spending more time together but that, Miller reminds himself, is all. He wants to room with Jackson but doesn’t want to be too forward or push things too fast.

His next stop is med bay, and his heart speeds up as he approaches it. He opens the door, scans the room, and again his heart flips a bit just at the sight of Eric Jackson. He’s there, bending over some equipment. Miller spots Abby in the distance, peering at a tablet.

Jackson must sense his presence, and he turns around. Miller’s heart thumps once more upon seeing the spontaneous smile spread across Jackson’s face and the eager way that Jackson walks right up to him.

They don’t get much time to talk. Miller understands how busy Jackson is, and it seems Jackson understands the same about Miller. “I heard,” Jackson is saying, “that you did a great job organizing the stations. You really hit the ground running when we got here.”

Miller’s trademark sarcasm and wit are gone. He just grins, knowing he looks like an idiot. “Just – you know – doing my job,” he manages. “How’s med bay?”

“It should be fine,” Jackson says, his gaze now moving from Miller to dart around the room. Miller wants Jackson’s eyes back on him. “We’re going to meet with Kara Cooper and check on the medicinal plants next, but all the supplies from Mount Weather are accounted for. The equipment here’s not bad. Just old.”

“I-I know you’re busy. Just wanted to stop in and say hi,” Miller says. He truly doesn’t know how long he can or should stay, but he guesses that Dr. Griffin is going to call out “Jackson!” any second now.

Jackson takes one more step closer to Miller and touches his hand to Miller’s arm. “I’m glad you did. Someone came by and told us that dinner’s in two hours. Maybe we can eat together. If you’re off duty by then.”

“I’d like that.”

It is Jackson who, again, initiates things, placing a hand on the side of Miller’s face and pulling him into a kiss. Miller happily returns the kiss, touching a hand to the back of Jackson’s head. Many delicious memories from their night in the rover flood back, and Miller wishes the kiss would never have to end.

***

Miller sits next to his dad in the mess hall. The other guardsmen and women give them space, perhaps recognizing that the Millers have hardly spent any time together since Nathan departed for Becca’s island and they need to catch up. The Sergeant does share some news that momentarily jolts Nathan: his ex Bryan has died. Apparently he was one of the victims of the black rain. “I know you two split up and I do think that was for the best,” the Sergeant is saying. “But he was a good soldier and I wanted to let you know.”

Miller nods somberly and allows the news to sink in. Death is an everyday occurrence for him, and it has been since the moment the dropship was cast out from the Ark. It happens all the time and there is not much to be done about it other than taking a moment to reflect upon the latest loss. Miller has been told that Jasper, Monty, and Harper chose to stay behind in Arkadia and he hates the fact that he didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Raven chose to stay on Becca’s island, and Octavia is locked out on the other side of the bunker’s door. Untold numbers more will perish when the death wave hits. Of course it’s different and strange thinking of the death of Bryan – they used to love each other but they broke up, having spent their last several encounters doing nothing but irritating each other.

“I hope he didn’t suffer much,” Nathan says sincerely. He takes a sip of his drink and is glad for the meal in front of him. The food is hearty and the portions decent-sized. The adrenaline surges he’s been having seem to be winding down, he’s almost feeling tired, and so he appreciates the energy he’s getting from the food.

“I don’t believe that he did.” The Sergeant’s voice then switches from grave to positive. “I heard that you and Dr. Jackson might be starting something up?”

Miller laughs and shakes his head. “Word travels fast here. We really need better distractions – like a TV show or tablet games like they had before!”

“Can’t argue with that,” the Sergeant says, smiling. “Well, in any case, I’ve always been a fan of Dr. Jackson so that was one piece of gossip that I hoped was true. You-” The Sergeant looks up and breaks off his sentence. “And speaking of that,” he gestures and waves at Jackson who indeed is entering the mess hall and has spotted the Millers.

Miller turns his head and once again his heart just dances as Jackson walks over to their table. I_ think I need to forget about playing it cool,_ Miller realizes._ I really and truly can’t do it._

Jackson sets his tray down at their table and the three men talk for a bit. After not long, the Sergeant fabricates a blatantly flimsy reason to leave, directing a knowing smile at his son.

Miller then sits facing Jackson, his emotions still skipping around a bit, and he starts with, “My dad likes you a lot.”

“Well the feeling is mutual,” Jackson responds. As usual, he sounds sincere and serious. “I’m very honored to hear that he likes me.”

Miller decides to throw caution to the wind and adds, “He heard that we might be starting something up and he’s all for it.”

It is the icebreaker they need. Miller knows it was a risk to bring it up; it’s presumptuous and bold. But Jackson voices no objections, and they share a laugh over Skaikru’s love of gossip. They need a laugh - there’s not much to joke about right now, knowing the death wave is coming, knowing that every grounder on the face of the planet except for Emori and Niylah is about to burn. The guilt alone is almost paralyzing. Yet conversely, Miller feels almost cozy down here inside this ugly bunker. He knows if he can accept the fact that some of his friends are dying – and that Bellamy is furious and heartbroken and might never speak to him again – then he has to at least appreciate the fact that some of his friends along with his dad and his maybe-boyfriend are alive and safe.

They find a few more things to smile about as Jackson finishes up his meal. Someone brought a guitar to the bunker and has whipped it out and started playing – while another man sings along, off-key. Despite the poor quality of the singing, the song itself isn’t bad though. It’s hundreds of years old, and when Miller can bring himself to listen to the lyrics, he thinks it’s about young love. He hears phrases like “impetuous fire”, “ice and desire”, and “Cupid he rules us all”.

He glances at Jackson. His heart pounds. Jackson looks sweet and thoughtful. He didn’t object to what Miller said earlier about the gossip surrounding them. Miller touches his hand to Jackson’s. “Do you want to come to my room with me?” Jackson nods, and off they go.

***

The door doesn’t lock, so Miller drags a chair in front of it to serve as a warning. “I don’t think my roommate’s going to be here for a while though,” he says. “My dad mentioned that her shift starts after dinner.”

Privacy concerns addressed now, the two men hungrily reach for each other, not wasting another moment. The sex, Miller muses, is even better now. They’d had a few awkward moments in the rover -- a few elbows in the wrong place, a time when they had to change position due to an injured muscle acting up - but they handled most of them by just talking. This time each man starts with a basic understanding of what the other likes. Miller wants to take his time now, using his mouth on Jackson for a long, long time. He’s been worried that Jackson in the rover did too much giving of pleasure rather than receiving it, and he wants to show his new lover that he can give too. But Jackson gently pushes Miller’s head away after a few minutes and asks, “Fuck me again?” and Miller cannot resist an invitation like that. It’s smoother this time, the bed is a better surface than the back of the rover, even though the springs creak loudly. Miller knows to – and wants to – take this slowly too, focusing on lots of kissing and touching and not so much on “pounding”, at least not till the end when he gets close and loses most of his control.

They remain in bed for a long time. Miller kind of needs to get up and go to the bathroom but he doesn’t want to leave this warm bed that has Jackson in it. He’s staying in Jackson’s arms, they’re murmuring nothing in particular to each other, he’s currently caressing Jackson’s face. Miller vaguely wants to go for round two and figures they will gear up for it soon but mostly he just wants to relax in bed next to this man and continue touching him, continue looking into his soft brown eyes.

But their happiness is short-lived. Suddenly they hear loud noises and screams. They jump to their feet and throw their clothing on. More loud sounds, crashes, clanging – and the now-horrifying sound of the Trig language.

The door to the bunker has been opened and 1,200 grounders are storming in. They are rounding up Skaikru and dragging them to the rotunda.

* * *

**Part II**

The irony, Jackson thinks, is that he and Miller do end up becoming roommates after all.

When he’d first heard that he and Miller hadn’t been assigned to the same room, he hadn’t worried too much, figuring they had all the time in the world to figure things out and swap with someone eventually. But now they – along with everyone else – live 7 or 8 to a room, packed in, every single bed in every single room taken.

Jackson knows he has no right to complain, and so he doesn’t. Three hundred and fifty members of Skaikru – including Miller’s father – didn’t make the cut for the bunker. There are young children, like Ethan, who are now orphans. There are newly widowed people, like Kara Cooper.  
And Abby is suffering; Jackson’s rock and center is distraught and horrified knowing - as they all do - that the crazy plan for Clarke and the others to go into space had just a ghost of a chance of succeeding. They can’t communicate outside the bunker anyway, and Abby will either go for five years or the rest of her life without knowing her daughter’s fate. Abby is also furious at Kane for keeping her inside the bunker. Jackson’s heart breaks for Abby, knowing that she doesn’t feel she deserves to live. He struggles to stay focused as his mentor flounders.

So Miller is without his father, Abby is without her daughter, and Jackson just tries to tell himself to take one day at a time, one moment at a time.

The crowded bedrooms do make life a challenge though. It can be hard to get a good night’s sleep when one roommate is sobbing, another gets up to pace, and a third is snoring. And Jackson needs sleep, needs to be at his absolute best every single day for his patients. Because he has a lot of them.

Med bay is constantly a swarm of activity, and Jackson is lucky when he has time for a break. The grounders have sundry wounds, some old and some fresh. Not every clan had healers as great as Nyko, and some of these old wounds need treatment, broken bones that were never set properly, warriors too stoic to admit to years of physical pain. Skaikru needs med bay’s services too. They are angry and terrified. They are experiencing everything from survivor’s guilt to depression to anxiety. Jackson sees them all, talks to every person who comes into med bay whether they need a bandage or a shoulder to cry on. Grounders may be stoic but they, too, are struggling with the end of life as they knew it, with the realization that they won’t see the sun for five years, with having lost loved ones. Jackson knows that they are human beings, same as Skaikru, they are in agony too over their loved ones who were not chosen to be clan survivors. They often lash out at each other, picking fights over nothing, and Jackson can barely keep up with treating their physical injuries let alone their emotional ones.

Jackson remembers his first dinner inside the bunker. He believes it was only five days ago but it feels like five months ago. Laughing with Miller over gossip and bad singing. Talking with Sergeant Miller…. _may we meet again, Sergeant._ Going back to Miller’s quiet, unoccupied room and leisurely loving each other.

No more comfortable meal times now, no more reasonable lines and familiar chatter at the tables. Now you might find yourself standing for 20 minutes to get your meager portion, and every seat at every table is occupied. Grounders sit according to clan, speaking in Trig – which Jackson knows he needs to learn – and giving dirty looks to Skaikru’s 100 survivors.

Jackson closes his eyes and takes a breath. He’s inside med bay’s supply closet now, one of the only quiet places inside this entire bunker. He takes another breath. He’s just mentally recounted everything that’s stressing him out and he asks himself if he’s forgotten anything.

Well, one more. Bellamy’s gone now too, off with Clarke on that mission that almost certainly failed – and Miller misses him too. He was the closest thing Miller had to a best friend. No loss can match the loss of the Sergeant though.

Jackson takes another breath but his heart rate is still racing. He’s failing. Failing to think of anything meaningful to say to either Miller or Abby other than asking if they want to talk. Failing to stay calm and centered. The walls in this bunker feel like they are closing in on him, squeezing him, pressing him, and making him sweat despite the cold temperature. At least, he thinks, the Ark had windows. Even on the ground he rarely spent much time outside of med bay but a part of him is missing the sunlight and the trees as much as any grounder is.

He forces himself to focus, locates the item he needs, and takes care of his patient. A bleary-eyed Abby enters med bay, tells Jackson he’s been here since breakfast and it’s now the middle of the night, and orders him to get some rest. He knows that she’s not had it any easier than he has today, but he’s too frazzled to argue. He heads down the corridor towards his room, realizes he’s made a wrong turn, backtracks, and finally finds the room.

The room is dark, with only the emergency lights along the floor glowing dimly. It appears that most of Jackson’s seven roommates are here, some snoring, one of them tossing and turning. He approaches his bunk bed, undresses to his underwear even though the room is chilly, and sits down for a second. His insides are still a mess, the crushing and frightening feeling of anxiety swirling around his belly. He feels that he’s made of nothing but fears and worries about spending the next five years down here.

He wants to do something but can’t decide if it’s wrong or right. Glancing up at the top bunk he guesses that Miller is sound asleep. They sat together a bit during supper as Miller had a 15 minute break to eat, and it was clear that Miller’s day hasn’t been any easier.

But Jackson takes a breath and decides to do it anyway. He climbs the ladder a few steps up, to Miller’s bunk. “Can I join you?” Jackson whispers.

Miller sleepily grunts something which sounds like ascent, and he shifts his position. Jackson fits himself next to Miller, somehow finding a way to get two grown men onto one bunk bed.

“You okay?” Miller whispers. He moves slightly, turning over and placing his arms around Jackson.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Jackson whispers back.

“No problem. I’m off till midday tomorrow. You don’t ever seen to get a break though, do you? You’re pretty stressed, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jackson admits. “Just trying to adjust.”

He squeezes Jackson tightly for a bit. “You’ll adjust. Look, it’s not so bad here. We got each other.”

“Yes. I feel like I’m a mess right now though. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Miller says firmly, his voice a bit louder than it had been. “And you don’t have to pretend. You can be a mess in front of me if you want.”

Jackson takes a breath. How did this 18 year old Miller get to be so mature and wise? “Thank you,” Jackson says. “I try to remind myself of the good stuff. Like how we have each other.”

“Right? And I know it’s weird with all the grounders here, but we don’t need to worry about our places here. You’re a respected healer. I’m close with Octavia. And I’m getting to know Indra better – we fought together in Polis against ALIE. I’ll be tight with her soon, she’ll see that I’m a loyal soldier. And Abby will come ‘round. She’s close with Kane, or she will be again, and he’s our chancellor.” Miller pauses. “We will survive this. We’ll get along and adapt like we always do. And in five years, we get out of this place and get to live on the ground.”

Jackson is quiet for several moments. The fear and worries swirling around his gut aren’t gone but they feel a notch more manageable than they did a few minutes ago. “You’re right.”

They lay in silence for several moments. Jackson feels Miller relax and wonders if he’s drifted back to sleep now. But then Miller speaks up.

“Hey. Are we officially each other’s boyfriend now?” he asks.

“I’m gonna say yes,” Jackson answers without hesitation. It’s funny. Their romp inside the rover was only about 10 days ago, but it may as well have been in another lifetime, in another time and place.

“Roger that.”

Miller’s kindness and his words are enough of a balm for now. Jackson relaxes and falls asleep.

**THE END**

**Comments are always loved!**


	18. Necklace

_Canon-compliant with early 7x14. Don’t watch if you haven’t seen 7x14 yet._

* * *

**Necklace**

It’s what Jackson has been craving and aching for, ever since Miller left on his mission. They had some time together in their room in the farmhouse on Sanctum, yes. But Jackson couldn’t lose himself in it, not with Abby’s death tearing up his bruised heart. Her loss still stings but Jackson is putting it aside now.

Here he is with Miller in their old room inside the bunker. It’s homier now. Candles give off golden light. The couple has their own safe cocoon. The bunker may be dark all around them but this sweet, cozy room is all theirs.

Jackson knows Miller is hurting. Bellamy was like a brother to him, and now he’s gone. One more loss that they will have to absorb. He thinks that Miller’s not ready to open up and have a discussion about it though. But that’s okay. This moment is about the two of them.

And Jackson is determined to make this good, really good, for Miller. He licks his ear and then whispers into it, “Tell me what you’d like. What would make you feel good.”

“You bring oil from Sanctum?” Miller asks straightforwardly, a twinkle in his eye.

“Stuffed a bottle into my backpack. And there’s another flask in my jacket.”

Miller’s smile is instinctive and genuine. “That’s my man.”

He goes on to whisper to Jackson exactly what he wants next, and Jackson obliges – after kissing Miller’s lips slowly and deeply. Jackson has been aroused pretty much since the last candle was lit and the last item of clothing discarded, and his arousal is only growing now as he enjoys exploring Miller’s mouth with his own. Moments later, Miller is on his stomach and Jackson is gently massaging his back and shoulders with oil. He knows just the right spots to press after so many years of practice. He’s going for a mixture of relaxing and arousing.

Miller groans and murmurs, “Okay”, signaling Jackson where to go next. With so many years together, they’ve become adept at understanding each other’s signals. Jackson coats more oil onto his fingers and then gently rubs and presses in exactly the right way to help Miller ease up and open up. Miller has once told him that Jackson is the “only person anywhere, ever” who he’d trust to do this and to do it right. ‘You do it like we have all the time in the world’, Miller once said. ‘You make it easy somehow.’

And then, some time later, Jackson is inside him, slowly moving as he kisses the back of Miller’s neck.

For Jackson, it’s never been about the desires of his flesh or the thrusting of hips or whose cock is where or the pursuit of a climax - though all those factors are present and enjoyed. It’s always been more about bonding, about feeling like they are merging and becoming one. Eventually, gradually, he does move faster and both men’s moans and grunts become louder. Both whisper endearments and some occasional dirty talk as their climaxes get closer and closer and closer and then are reached, sending exquisite feelings coursing through their bodies.

Not long afterwards, Jackson is kissing the back of Miller’s neck. His lips brush against the chain of the necklace Miller wears. Jackson thinks back to the day he bestowed it upon him.

***

It’s Year Three after the death wave, Year Three inside the bunker with its fighting pits, its fear and anxiety, and its population still reeling from the dark year.

The necklace belonged to Jackson’s mother, Mary. His gentleness and compassion come from her. He lost her to an illness, he held her in his arms as she died, and the sadness and heaviness has never really left him. The only way he could try to live with the loss was by becoming a healer and devoting his life to preventing as much suffering as he can. He knew that if he could spare one child from having the cry until they felt ill because of the death of a parent then his life would be worth it.

Jackson holds the necklace in his hands. As his thumb caresses the chain, he can’t decide if the gesture he wishes to make is risky or if it’s a fait accompli. But he’s going to do it.

Miller’s at his best after dinner, so Jackson waits until then. He seems to be lucky today. There are no patients in med bay, and Niylah and Gaia have agreed to their roles in this.

Jackson paces around the rec room as Niylah plays the piano. He’s trying to remember who taught her to play, but the name escapes him and he doesn’t want to interrupt her. She plays beautifully. The piece is slow and relaxing, contemplative. He puts the necklace back inside his pocket as his hands are just a bit damp now.

The door opens and Miller walks through, having been escorted by Gaia. Miller looks around. “What’s this? How’s the rec room so empty?” The rec room never has fewer than 20 or 30 people in it. Sometimes there’s a line to get inside, sometimes you can barely hear the piano over all the noise.

“We have our methods,” Gaia says with a smile as she takes her leave and closes the door.

Miller’s eyes dart between Jackson and Niylah. “Hi Niylah,” he says.

She turns, smiles and nods, and continues playing.

Jackson smiles. He’s strangely relaxed. Maybe it’s just seeing the look in Miller’s eyes, the surprise turning to curiosity with a dash of happiness.

“Uh, so I hope we’re not expected to dance,” Miller says, glancing at the piano.

Jackson keeps smiling. He can always count on Miller’s sense of humor. It’s one of the things that keeps him alive inside this place, one of the things that makes him look forward to the next day instead of dreading it.

“No. Niylah just wanted to give us some nice music,” Jackson answers as he takes a step closer to Miller. They are just inches apart now. He swallows and meets Miller’s eyes, and from the slight way Miller’s mouth opens, Jackson guesses he has at least an idea as to what is coming next.

“I-I wanted to ask if you’d accept something,” Jackson says. “My mother – she gave me a necklace.” He’s told Miller this part before, but repeats it anyway. “I managed to keep it with me when the Ark went down and when we moved here.” He reaches for one of Miller’s hands and holds it. “I wanted to ask if I could give it to you. To symbolize my love and commitment to you. To symbolize that my heart is yours. I would be honored if you’d wear it.”

Miller clutches his hand tightly. “You know the answer is yes,” he says, his voice intense and almost raspy. “I would be honored to wear it.”

Jackson reaches into his pocket and pulls out the necklace. Miller undoes his jacket slightly and loosens his collar. Jackson’s hands don’t tremble – he’s used to doing tricky and precise things with his hands in med bay – and he carefully fastens the clasp around Miller’s neck.

“Hey Jacks,” Miller says, turning back to face him. He cups Jackson’s face in his hands. “I don’t have any family heirlooms to give you. My-my father-“

“I know.”

Miller has already shared the story with Jackson. His father had a treasured pocket watch. Sergeant Miller had thought it was on his person when the Ark went down, but - well, it wasn’t. It was lost to the chaos that has marked the lives of Skaikru.

“Maybe I can tattoo your name on my arm,” Miller smiles.

Jackson laughs a little and shakes his head. “You know my opinion on anything involving pain.”

Miller’s hands continue to touch the sides of Jackson’s face. “I love you. And I am committed to you for the rest of my life.” He pauses. “My husband.”

“My husband,” Jackson repeats. Miller pulls him into a kiss.

“Guys,” Niylah pipes up, as the song she was playing has ended, “we have the room for 45 more minutes before we promised to start letting people back in. So if you’re planning to fuck on the sofa, go for it. Gaia and I will hold the door.”

“Thanks, Niylah,” Miller intones, the way only Miller can.

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_


End file.
